


Follow The Sinner

by adiostoreadoormat (choicescarfsylveon)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Act 5 Act 2, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dream Bubbles, Earth C (Homestuck), God Tier Tavros, Grimdark Tavros, Horrorterrors - Freeform, Land Of Sand And Zephyr, M/M, Meteorstuck, Psychics, Quadrant Confusion, Retcon Timeline, Tavros Lives AU, [S] Game Over
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-11-28 09:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18206678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choicescarfsylveon/pseuds/adiostoreadoormat
Summary: When Vriska decides Tavros isn't worth the kill, Tavros calms Gamzee down from his murderous rage. Moirallegience turns to matespritship, but is Gamzee more unstable than Tavros can handle?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So last month I started reading [Alternate Mewniverse](https://mspfa.com/?s=15542&p=1), in which Nepeta goes murder mode along with, but opposing Gamzee. It is really goddamn good. In it, for various reasons, Vriska doesn't kill Tavros, which alters his timeline significantly, and got me thinking:
> 
> I’ve since wondered how long Tavros might've lived in the Game Over timeline had Vriska skipped over him, or if he’d met sober Gamzee before or instead of her. The Gam<3Tav in me has some theories.
> 
> Plus I just really needed a universe where Tavros gets to stay alive for most of Act 6 and is #meteorstuck because I love him. 
> 
> This story is also me exploring: the time Tavros spent as Gamzee's server player (would’ve been cute as shit imo), Tavros’ potential as a psychic Page of Breath (communing with lusii/game construct fauna could’ve been really OP if he’d honed it), and headcanons about Gamzee's immortality (Hussie says he’s unkillable because of clown bullshit, and I love that, but what if there was a little more?)
> 
> Listening to [Devil’s Backbone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTb6MoMLvcY) by The Civil Wars as I write this.

 

 

AT: sOMEONE SAID i SHOULD GIVE MY SELF ESTEEM A NAME,  
AT: aND TO BE CAREFUL ABOUT WHAT i SAY,  
AT: tO MAKE SURE i DON'T HURT HIS FEELINGS,

 

 

 

Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you’re going to make her pay.

 

It wasn’t a shock to you that you were able to commune with Bec, Jade’s lusus, across temporal lines. Jade’s lusus who, if your theory’s correct, is the chief source of power for your most nefarious adversaries. The nature of the First Guardian powers isn’t clear to you, but if you communed for longer, if you perhaps felt the powers yourself - maybe you could be the hero who fixes the mess your friends are in. Wouldn’t that be the day!

 

Wrangling beasts with your psychics isn’t always a cushy feat; you do it because you love it, because it’s what makes you most free, but sometimes, it can be painful. Not because the work itself is so much, but because no one really believes you can do it well. It’s taken sweeps of practice to commune with creatures so great, they could kill you in a moment. The greatest of the underlings on the Land of Sand and Zephyr, the ogres, were behemoth giants, sturdy and big as cliffs. You managed thousands of them at once during your quests, with repose, because it always helps to remember the most important part of communion. The key is to convince the beast that you’re a friend. A vessel, so to speak, to bring fortune into their lives. It’s not hard a thing to remember when you genuinely _want_ to do good for every single mind you enter. As a psychic, you ultimately have the reigns in the conversation, but they trust you because you listen to them instead. Instead of just take control.

 

Wouldn’t it be the smart thing to do, then, as a contributing member of your team, to get Jade’s special lusus’ powers flowing over to your side? What if you could sway evil into the light?

 

But Jade says no, when you ask, and you want to be respectful. You guess.

 

As far as the uh, other stuff went - the things you told her about red feelings, confidence and bravado - the fact that when you saved her life, you also killed someone she _liked_ \- you are constantly spilling out words, utterances, fragments, that make less sense the more they leave your mouth. Or in this case, keyboard. You were asinine levels of nervous, talking with her about your emotions, because it wasn’t the first time you tried and failed to tell someone you loved them. You were trying it again on her, maybe misguided, to test a theory.

 

Once Jade was sufficiently miffed by your passes, and your plans for her lusus, you gave up. That tends to be a thing you're doing. The thought of doing it anyway, reaching in behind her back and harnessing Bec, sticks around in your thinkpan, amuses you somewhat. But that wouldn’t be the friendly thing to do here. The humans and trolls are supposed to be working together, and you’re nothing if not a team player. Maybe too much so.

 

Seconds after Jade disconnects, Vriska makes her way into your Trollian like clockwork. She’s always watching, the one in control, as if from eight steps ahead in your future. You don’t even always know how she does it.

 

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling adiosToreador [AT]

AG: Aaaaaaaahahahahahahahaha!  
AG: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!  
AG: Oh my god, I cannot 8elieve how hilariously pathetic that whole exchange was.  
AG: Even 8y your wretched standards, Toreadork!  
AG: Hahahahahahahaha, oh god I can't 8reathe!!!!!!!!  
AG: A8solutely priceless. XXXXD  
AT: hEY, vRISKA,  
AT: tHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE, oF A PERSONAL NATURE,  
AT: hOW COULD YOU EVEN BE READING THAT,  
AG: Pff. Tavros, sometimes your stupidity surprises even me.  
AG: Next time you decide to open your heart to an alien girl.....…  
AG: Make sure her chat client isn't 8eing holographically projected for all to see, ok?

 

Brown heat rushes your face. Your embarrassment starts to tremble through your upper extremities as you watch Jade putter around her strange white block in your viewport, your green and russet pesterlog plastered in midair like a final judgment.

 

Vriska’s stream of insults is long and cuts deep, skillful and premeditated, and everything she’s saying to you is right. You don’t let her think she’s right, or at least you try, because she has you cornered; her big words unravel every spindle of your spirit, all the confidence you thought you’d built back up since your last crisis of faith. The self-esteems are not so real. Try as you might to pretend, and believe, it’s fake that Rufio instills in you some kind of mystical bravado. It’s fake that you have the backbone to stick to your guns. What guns? Your guns are made of paper, your bullets puffs of pixie dust.

 

AG: Tavros, you give confidence a 8ad name. I gave you all the chances in the world to earn it, to earn REAL confidence, and you failed.  
AG: You couldn't even do the one little thing I asked you to! The one thing that would have made you man up once and for all.  
AG: So instead you flew away and cried, and decided to sleep away your sorrow for the rest of the adventure.  
AG: Do you have any idea how sick that made me? Everything a8out you makes me sick.  
AG: When you talk a8out your self confidence, I throw up a little. You don't know what confidence is. Ro8o-legs don't give you confidence, that 8n't no more true than saying my ro8o-arm gave me mine. See what I mean?  
AG: Your confidence is faker than even the great Rufio himself, Lord of the Unreal. It's pure fiction, a false fakey fraudy con jo8 from a wimpy loser charlatan 8ullshit artist.  
AG: It's shallow and nause8ting, just like you. Do us all a favor and SHUT UP a8out it.

 

Your anger burns. This is the first time you _are_ angry about Vriska, the first time you tell her that she can’t talk to you like this anymore, perhaps because the tension between the twelve of you on this meteor is a stewing pot. The dark corridors, transportalizers only leading to dust-filled empty, it’s all irritation and hapless waiting for some deus ex machina from the humans. The last few hours, it’s seemed like you’re the only one who hasn’t been up to their shame globes in stress and bickering.

 

Finally though, the tension has you too, prickling skin and sweaty bursts, as you type back. Vriska rambles on inside your screen, stirring the pot.

 

And she tells you she’s the reason Bec becomes the wicked demon. 

 

AG: The guardian is not going to attack the agents who engineered him in the first place.  
AG: Or who I should say were "encouraged" (lol) to engineer him.  
AG: I was striking a mutually 8eneficial arrangement! This is often the most effective way to manipul8 others.  
AG: I just sort of gave them an idea. Nudged them along in the direction of seizing more power, which they wanted to do anyway.  
AG: Remem8er, I already have a lot of experience getting these simple minded agents to march to my drum 8eat.  
AG: I was exiling them left and right in our session! I'm an expert at this 8y now.  
AT: wHY WOULD YOU DO THAT,  
AG: Tavros, at this point it should 8e o8vious.  
AG: I am the unseen hand 8ehind every major event in their session, and to some extent, their whole lives.

...

AG: I have every angle covered already. The human session is on full Serket lockdown. Any effort you make to disrupt my plans will 8e laugha8le, just like everything you have ever done in your life.

 

This is personal. You knew – damn it, _she_ _knew_ – you couldn’t’ve killed her. Not after sweeps of fearing her, not drenched in cerulean blood. You could taste it, taste _her_ , coppery and thick all over your face. It scared you so much, sometimes you’re not sure if you'll ever recover, and this is _not_ something you’re ashamed of - fearful of, because you don’t think the image of her dying will ever leave you – but the last thing it is laughable. Unseen hands are cheater’s work, you know that now, and it’s not _fair_ _,_ when she tells you everything you’ve ever done in your life is a joke, when she was the hands behind every recent major event that's made you fall.

 

You have lived your life passively, trying your best to be kind and brave, to care for every animal that passes you by. But you know that you fall short in almost every way there is at being a troll. They have always called you  _spineless_ for the way you run from conflict, your want of quiet peace.

 

There's no peace to be had in you right now.

 

For all that you’ve met Vriska’s snipes with dumb denial over the sweeps, right now, you aren’t going to take this intel lying down. If the indestructible demon is her design, she’s a bad guy too. She’s constantly getting away with it, damning you and others, even herself, on boastful whims. But you’re done. You may not be the fighting type, and she terrifies you half to death, but for once in your life, you’re going to be the hero.

 

You stand up, metal legs shaking, and go to the chest where you stow your best lance.

 

AG: I'll 8e w8ing. <3

 

It occurs to you, as you wander the dark corridors in search, that you have no idea where Vriska is currently. You think about messaging her back to ask, but she’d just tear into you all over again for that. Whatever. You’ll find her. Maybe.

 

Your footsteps echo harsh, metal-on-metal scrapes that hurt your eardrums. Each hallway twists into rooms that you recognize less and less. This meteor is massive, cavernous, and you are very lost. By the time you’ve found your way to a dead end, a jagged rift in the floor that looks like a cliff’s edge, you’ve lost the bulk of your courage. This is stupid.

 

You un-equip your Cigarette Holder Lance. You’re about to search your sylladex for your husktop or palmhusk, maybe to tell Vriska that you’re calling off the duel, when you feel something – a gust of wind that almost feels...sparkly? – tickle the back of your neck and ruffle your hair.

 

You turn, and there she is standing before you: Vriska Serket ascended to god tier after you failed to end her, bright in yellow and orange, her vision eightfold glowing, triumphant blue wings flitting behind her. She smiles at you with all her fangs, nasty and fucking gorgeous in a way that twists your guts and makes you think about kissing her.

 

“Welllllll, if it isn’t the Summoner’s spawn,” she starts out, quoting the ancient lore of Spinneret Mindfang – you aren’t sure that guy’s your ancestor, on account of he was in love with _Spinneret M_ _indfang_ \- “if the Summoner’s spawn was totally useless and cried about everything, sure.”

 

You re-equip your lance, anger unfurling. “I told you, that I’m not going to let you talk to me like that, anymore. You’re a bully, and you’re mean, and I think I hate you.”

 

“Oh?”

 

The smile warps from her face, turning upside down into an ugly snarl.

 

“It’s about fucking time.”

 

She shows you a thumbs down, which means the duel is go. You show her the severed head of a host plush, foretelling your wrath. She holds up your severed legs. _That’s it_.

 

You charge at her lance first, running with clunky footsteps and all your might, but she simply floats above you and evades.

 

“Nice try! _Not._ ”

 

She laughs from up above you, wings sparkling in her fervor. Game over. You can’t compete with flight.

 

“Maaaaaaaan, I’m so bored! You’re not even worth the effort! I tried to help you, Tavros. I tried sooooooo hard. Do you know how powerful you could’ve been? All that potential, that _mind,_ wasted on a gimpy wriggler who breaks every time he chips a clawnail. What a waste of my time! But don’t feel sorry for me - I found a new Hero of Breath, and he’s better than you on every conceivable level. _He_ knows how to make the tough decisions. You make your ‘decisions,’ if you could even call them that, too little and too late. Always late. Latey latey late. You’re nothing! Nothing but vulnerable, easily swayed scrap meat.”

 

Vriska suddenly hovers close to you, so close to your face that you can smell her, that familiar scent that is so _essentially her_ and reminds of you of home.

 

All your anger sweeps away from you, just like that. Your drop your lance, still paralyzed before her.

 

“Adios, toreadoormat.”

 

You run off the edge of the cliff behind you, against your own will.

 

 

 

 ♉

 

 

 

Land already.

 

Luck would have it: Terezi is loitering the ground where you’re rapidly descending, chalk and several Scalemates beneath her feet. She looks up at you as you fall, her entire posture that of an exclamation point, and stretches her arms heroically to catch you.

 

You both go clammoring to the floor, because your legs are made of metal. _“_ _Fuck,_ ” Terezi curses as the bulk of you jerks her down, nearly crushing three noisy Scalemates to death. You wince upon the impact of the sound and your pelvis hitting the floor, not rebounded enough by plush, minute tears in your waist incision reopening and pulsing.

 

Terezi is hunched over next to you, one hand on her lower back, when suddenly, her head jerks up, and she sniffs the air.

 

“Oh,” she says, letting her forehead lilt to the floor. “It’s Vriska. I was pretending it wasn’t her, because that would be more fun. But the evidence keeps piling itself up. It is becoming a small but considerable pile of evidence. We were about to have _another_ delicious splatter on our hands!”

 

You admit, Terezi’s cryptic riddle speak is hard for you to get on a good day. But this is turning out to be a very bad day.

 

“Um.” _Shit,_ your back hurts. All the flesh you can still feel, above the waist, really hurts. Your mind is still reeling from Vriska’s forceful jolt. Your words tumble slow. “I think, uh, you just saved my life, or maybe, from having another pair of broken legs, irreparably, so...thank you?”

 

Terezi doesn’t lift her head, groaning and giving you a half-hearted thumbs up.

 

“Are you okay?” you ask her.

 

“Not really! I just came from the computer lab, where I discovered the corpses of two friends.”

 

Your stomach lurches. Corpses?

 

You knew tensions were high as the countdown continued to drop. That the trigger-happy trolls like Eridan and, well, Vriska, were probable to snap on someone if pressure peaked.

 

But you don’t want to believe it. This isn’t happening.

 

 _Who’s dead?_ you think to Rufio, hoping he’ll have the answers. _Please, don’t be him -_

 

“Who’s dead?” you ask Terezi, because Rufio is silent in your haze of self doubt, and Terezi is real.

 

“Kanaya! And also Feferi.” Terezi stands abruptly, pure adrenaline, and circles her team of Scalemates, limping somewhat, calculating her thoughts. “It appears our murderer has gone on an impaling spree. I found this pattern odd, because you are the only member of our party with the lancekind, and no offense, but you couldn’t kill a fly.”

 

“Um, none taken.”

 

“But you people have been stowing your sharp valuables in chests – and by you people I mean me, the chests are pretty amusing – so our murderer _could,_ and very likely is, committing her crimes with a stolen weapon. And how better to get away with murder than to try and pin it on the guy you’ve hated for sweeps! How better to finally best him than to maim him with his own arm. To make it look like murder-suicide!”

 

There's one thing you want to point out - Vriska didn't try to impale you - but you're stuck on the scandal. They can't be dead. You never got to thank Kanaya properly for your legs, and for helping you give Rufio a name, and Feferi was always so positive. Why? Why is she so bent on destruction?

 

“I don’t think, Vriska would kill Kanaya. Weren’t they moirails, at one point, or am I just imagining that? And what has Feferi, ever done to her? I don’t believe it, that she would just kill them.”

 

Terezi stares at you dumbfounded.

 

“She just tried to kill you. Again.”

 

She continues her pacing.

 

“On top of her two existing counts, she is now facing one additional charge of attempted murder. Intent is nine tenths of the law. And no, before you ask, I am not letting her off the hook for this for your sake. Thank gog I was down here! But my legal team and I need to ascend. She’s clearly on a streak. And I’m probably the only one who can stop her.”

 

You flinch. “Stop her?”

 

She doesn’t extrapolate. No need. You know what she means, and she knows you know. The Scourge feud runs deep.

 

This is personal for her too.

 

Terezi then asks if you’d like to join her. She tells you that your class is more valuable than you know.

 

“It is just like your class in FLARP, almost to the letter. The Page, like his Boy Skylark counterpart, appears weak and has low stats until he scales the echeladder after a certain amount of time, after which the spoils are sweet. Almost all of us reached the top of ours. Didn’t you?”

 

You almost did. Though no one would believe it if you told them - except Gamzee, he was there - the side quests on LOSAZ were not all that pointless. It all lead to a larger puzzle, to the crux of your personal quest, one you were figuring out in the end, and had you spent more time – oh, what’s the point in re-hashing it.

 

You ran out of time. You slept it away.

 

You’ll just get in Terezi’s way, if you try and help. You decline. She says she understands, and absconds.

  

Terezi is strong enough to kill Vriska. She’s not able to be mind controlled, and you’ve seen her prowess in FLARP, and she has that coin. You could warn Vriska right now, that Redglare is on her way to levy justice. Tell her to think of a strategy, maybe, or to run. If she would even take you seriously, if you tried.

 

Instead, you think you’ll sleep.

 

You curl up on the floor with some of the Scalemates Terezi left behind for you, “for your protection,” pushing them into a makeshift pile. You know Prospit isn’t there anymore, or that’s what everyone says. Apparently, you barely missed the green percussion that caused its end. But you were kind of in the middle of something there, last you slept.

 

You know Karkat banned napping, but if there’s a chance that Prospit is still real, you could really stand to be the other guy right now. Your dream self. His legs work. Your new legs technically work, but they’re magnetic in all the wrong places, too heavy and cumbersome. They haven’t healed, and maybe they won’t, and sometimes, you get this strange urge to walk on all fours.

 

If Vriska really is killing off your friends, could you fight her with these legs?

 

The last time you were on Prospit, you were in Gamzee’s tower for another “iMpOrTaNt StRaTeGy MeEtInG }:o).” These usually consisted of rap battles, games of flying tag or hide and seek, and conversations about your feelings. However, there was a plan, loosely constructed though it was, to help you make the most of your life on Prospit: Gamzee was talking to Mr. Milkshake, Terezi’s friend who types in white, who said he knew the way for you to permanently be the other guy.

 

You really hope Gamzee’s okay. You haven’t seen him in a while.

 

 

 

  ♉

 

 

 

Weeks in the past, but not many…

 

 

 

He’s so tall in person.

 

The first time you affect Gamzee's hive, it's just after the conversation in which your friend makes his intentions _known_. It's the last night on Alternia, the first night of the game, and you stare at his words in your Trollian chat in disarray. 

 

It takes you almost an hour to think of anything coherent to say. Even then, you're pretty sure it's incoherent. Terezi has just entered the game and Gamzee is waiting on you to enter himself.  _Okay,_ you steel yourself mentally,  _you can do this._  

 

adiosToreadoor [AT] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]

AT: sO,  
AT: uH,  
AT: i HAVE THE DOWNLOAD FILE YOU SENT, bUT i DONT THINK i UNDERSTAND, hOW IT WORKS,  
TC: lOoKs LiKe YoUlL bE aBlE tO wAtCh Me At My GeT mY mOtHeRfUcKiN mIsChIeF oN aT mY hIvE.  
TC: TeReZi Is AlL gOiNg ArOuNd HeRs NoW AnD iM pImPiNg hEr SwEeT tReEhOuSe OuT WiTh ThEsE MaGiCaL lItTle wHizNuTs.  
TC: hOw DoEs ThE gAmE EvEn Do ThAt? HoWs ThE cOmPuTeR AlL kNoW aT wHeRe ShE lIvEs?  
AT: cOULD IT BE, pOSSIBLY,,  
AT: ,  
AT: ,,  
AT: ,,,  
AT: mIRACLES?  
TC: :oO  
TC: My MoSt MiRaCuLoUs Of BrOtHeRs, yOuRe aLwAyS uNdErStAnDiNg Me.  
AT: iTS A CORRECT THING TO SAY, tHAT COMPUTERS ARE MADE OF MIRACLES, bECAUSE THEY’RE USUALLY JUST SO, uH, fRUSTATING, nOT LETTING YOU EXECUTE THE FILES,  
AT: yOU COULD SAY, iTS A MIRACLE WHEN THEY ACTUALLY WORK, }:)  
TC: hOoOnK hAhAhAhAhA.  
AT: aNYWAY,  
AT: i WAS WONDERING,  
AT: iF i COULD TAKE YOU UP ON, gETTING MY HANG ON AT YOUR HIVE, lIKE SORT OF RIGHT NOW, iF THAT’S OKAY,  
AT: sO YOU CAN SHOW ME WHAT TO DO,  
AT: sINCE, yOU’RE ALREADY DOING THEM, wITH TEREZI,  
AT: aND THEN, i’LL MAKE MY WAY BACK TO MY HIVE, bECAUSE i THINK WE'RE SUPPOSED TO START, wITH US IN OUR RESPITEBLOCKS,  
TC: tHaT sOuNdS lIkE a BeAuTiFuL sEqUeNcE oF tHiNgS tHaT cOuLd Be AlL hApPeNiNg. :o)  
TC: LiKe I sAiD, I dOnT kNoW hOw ThIs SgUrB mAgIc HaPpEnS oN sPeCiFiC.  
TC: ShIt BrO iM jUsT aLl GuEsSiNg WhAt To Do ThAt SeEmS LiKe FuN aNd It AlSo EnDs Up MoThErFuCkIn BeInG tHe CoRrEcT tHiNg!  
TC: bUt We CaN dIsCoVeR tHe mYsTeRiEs ToGeThEr.  
TC: LiKe We AlWaYs Do. (o:  
TC: I wAs JuSt AbOuT tO gO tO tHe OcEaN aNd Be At OnE wItH nAtUrE, bEfOrE tHiS gAmE gEtS aT iTs SeRiOuS.  
TC: wE cAn SeT uP mY hUsKtOp dOwN tHeRe aNd IlL sHoW yOu.  
AT: oKAY,  
AT: iT MAY TAKE ME A WHILE TO GET THERE, bECAUSE THIS PART OF OUR DISTRICT IS BASICALLY MADE OF RAMPS, aND i MAY ACCIDENTALLY CATCH SOME SICK AIR,  
AT: tHE JUDGES, wILL GIVE THIS PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED UNWELL AIR, tEN OUT OF TEN, bECAUSE THEY FEEL BAD FOR HIM, tHAT HIS LEGS DON'T WORK,  
AT: bUT i’M ON MY WAY, aND i’LL LET YOU KNOW WHEN i GET THERE,  
TC: hAhAhA oHhH :o( wElL wHy DiDnT yOu JuSt SaY So.  
TC: I WiLl CoMe To YoU.

 

These words seem shockingly intimate, all of a sudden. _I will come to you_. You feel the tips of your ears burn, imagining Gamzee sitting here on your messy, Fiduspawn stained floor. No, it was a good idea to try and get outside, to travel to him. You’ve spent so much time alone and inside since your accident, you could use the exercise. Especially before an intensive game.

 

AT: nO, tHATS OKAY,  
AT: iM, uH,  
AT: iM ALREADY HERE,  
TC: wHoA, yOu ArE?  
TG: hOw?  
AT: oH, dIDNT YOU KNOW?  
AT: i FLEW, };)  
TC: AwWwW sHiT, oF mOtHeRfUcKiNg CoUrSe YoU dId, PuPa.  
AT: i DONT KNOW IF iVE SAID THIS, aND, sORRY IF i HAVE,  
AT: bUT i REALLY LIKE,,  
AT: wHEN YOU CALL ME THAT,,,  
TC: FuCkKk.  
TC: YeAh?

 

Oh man. It just keeps happening.

 

AT: (fOR THE SAKE OF, uS STARTING TO THE PLAY GAME,  
AT: (i MEAN THE REAL ONE, tHE RED TEAM ONE,, nOT THE ONE THAT INVOLVES,,,  
AT: (uH,,,,,  
AT: (fOR THE SAKE OF THE GAME, lETS JUST SAY THAT i AM ROLLING MY WAY TO YOUR HIVE RIGHT NOW, aND i FEEL GREAT AND CONFIDENT ABOUT IT,  
AT: (aND i SHOULD SEE YOU IN ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES,)  
TC: HeArD.  
TC: SeE yOu SoOn. :o)

 

He lives not far from you at all, much closer than you realized before he sent his address to you last perigee. Same cliff, different lawnrings; you ran through these hills so many nights when you FLARPed. It would be a risk to roll right into highblood lawnrings flaunting your four wheel device and inevitable culling, but the path to Gamzee’s hive is deserted. Gamzee lives alone in a great alcove, his other neighbors so far out, their tented hives look like specks against the bright splash of pink moon, setting on the horizon.

 

This really is a beautiful cove; the smell of salt and the roar of the splashing ocean make you miss being outdoors. Alternia may be a strange and cruel planet, but it’s home. You find new adventures in it still, even as the night you get blooded by a drone for your disability draws ever nearer. It wouldn’t be the worst way to go, you think.

 

When you see him standing there, long limbs and graceful awkwardness, you feel more relieved than you imagined. You haven’t seen him since last twelfth perigee’s eve. He’s stretched considerably since, limber and rhythmic, the curls of his hair winding in the wind as he waves at you gently.

 

You roll towards him as he walks towards you, leaving the slope of his hive door to meet you halfway. He moves like liquid, like sopor dripping down surface; you think that’s fair, since he’s probably consumed triple his weight in pie. Today.

 

Gamzee offers you his hand to hold in greeting; he always does this, and you think it's sweet. 

 

"Welcome to my motherfucking humble abode."

 

"Hi, it's nice to see you again."

 

He wheels you towards the beach's shore, talking to you easily about the way the water glistens "all like diamonds." Unfortunately, your four wheel device doesn’t agree with the sand, getting stuck a few yards into trying to mow ahead. This is no matter for Gamzee. He picks you up, like your body's light as feathers, and carries you the rest of the way down.

 

“You really don’t have to,” you say, even though he’s already doing it.

 

“No worries,” Gamzee says. “The ocean is a miracle every single good soul in the universe deserves to be blessed of. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help a motherfucker reach enlightenment?”

 

The landscape is dark violet oceans, white sand, and foamy wave crests. You were a pretty avid swimmer before your accident, which is unusual for most rustbloods, and landdwellers in general. But you never traveled too far in, not so far a seadweller might notice you, semi shallow excursions just down the cliff from your hive.

 

Gamzee sits beside you and shows you the Sgurb server environment on his husktop; Terezi has entered the Medium on a blurry teal planet, collecting grist and slaying imps with flair. Gamzee's able to maneuver his cursor through her world, stacking walls and windows onto her hive. It looks like fun, and you're excited to get started.

 

He sets the husktop aside for a moment, next to the soda he brought with him. You dwell next to him and compare the lengths of your legs; his giant shoes get splashed by the froth of every wave, while yours rest a ways back on the sand.

 

“I just wanted to, uh, say that I’m sorry for earlier," you decide, "for typing all those commas, and then, maybe avoiding you a little.”

 

Gamzee sips from his Faygo bottle slowly. “I ain’t felt like a motherfucker’s been avoiding me no way,” he says, capping the lid back. “What makes you feel like that?”

 

You try to explain. That. Him sending you the winking face. The curveball. “AnD tHeN mAyBe MaKe OuT a LiTtLe.” It made you feel confused. _Not_ because the thought of making out with him makes you that uncomfortable, objectively – he’s a good friend, maybe your best, and you feel the most like Rufio around him – but because you’ve never kissed _anyone._ How do trolls even do that without their fangs tearing up each others’ mouths? You don’t know. Everyone who’s ever met or interacted with your fumbling, socks-in-sandals-wearing ass has told you that you wouldn’t know a quadrant if it beat you upside the head and then bluntly entered your nook. Karkat, Karkat said that. Vriska has also made similar gross analogies.

 

It’s hard, feeling awkward and unusual in your body, not understanding your feelings well enough to sort them into four courts. It’s hard and nobody understands.

 

You say all this, more or less - mostly less - to Gamzee and apologize again. But Gamzee doesn’t remember saying the thing about making out with you, apparently. He says that evening’s latest pie started kicking in right around the middle of your rap battle, that sometimes his stronger pies fudge up his memory. He shooshes your apology, telling you it’s all good.

 

You wonder how many of your talks - the countless, this sweep - he may’ve forgotten. You don’t mean to say that out loud, but you do, in a dejected sort of manner.

 

“Nah, don’t think on it like that,” Gamzee says. “I'm sorry. Sometimes my thinkpan's greased as fuck and slippery-like and I can’t be getting my help on about it that much. The important thing is being that every single talk with you has happened _at all_. I _feel_ each and every thing you’ve ever rapped at me when I look at you right now, all up right here - ” He touches his chest, over his bloodpusher. “And what I remember is that you’re always so fucking good to me, Tavros. My sweetest, finest thing.”

 

You’re pretty sure your cheeks are burning bronze, at that.

 

“Do you,” you say, “really think I’m sweet? And fine?”

 

Gamzee grins. “Hell yeah, bro. C’mon, look at these horns.” He takes one in his hand and gives your head a playful rock. “This is the best rack I’ve ever gotten the righteous chance to be all looking at. Instead of all like making work with a specibus, you could just be knocking motherfuckers right and silly with these beautiful things.”

 

His hand is big enough to wrap around your horn entirely, and wow, that was not a thing you were expecting to be attractive. The hand lingers for a moment, warm and rough, and you sure are pretty flustered. Horn touching is not as much of a thing as the historical Alternian romance novels Karkat sends you make out with each other to be. You mean make it out to be. Still, horns are a somewhat erogenous zone, and it occurs to you that nothing has ever rested on them like this save for Tinkerbull’s little hooves, and okay, so you might see where the romance novels are going.

 

Gamzee gives the base of your horn a soothing little rub, and then lets go, returning to his Faygo bottle.

 

“We don’t have to make out with each other,” he says then, between sips. He’s not looking at you, his eyes set out on the depths of the ocean. “Sometimes I get a little up and too excited when I think on meeting my friends. It’s just that I ain’t got nobody around to teach me what’s too much and what’s too little, you dig? I never learned what way is up or what’s the right thing to be saying to trolls in friendship, besides what all my fellow believers best think we should exalt on the mirthful messiahs. The old goat’s always out there.”

 

You remember him telling you about his transitory, underwater lusus. It makes you sad, that he has only seen his guardian a handful of times in sweeps, with his church as his only refuge.

 

You’re also…a little relieved to hear him say he doesn’t wanna make out. Or well, he said you don’t _have_ to make out, which isn’t him saying what he does or doesn’t want, or asking you what you want, is it? And aren’t you just a _little_ disappointed that on your scenic, nearly treacherous roll to his hive, you spent twenty minutes imagining what you might stutter if he wanted to?

 

No. Maybe.

 

No, it’s a good thing he’s not reaching over and maybe-kissing you, because you have literally no idea what it involves as far as motor skills, if you’d accidentally bite his tongue, get some of his white-slate paint smeared over your face -

 

“Does your paint, uh, come off?” Smooth, Troll Cassanova. It’s not like he was hatched with it.

 

“Fuck yeah, it’s not like I was hatched with it.” Gamzee scrubs two of his fingers across the white of his cheek, showing you the faint residue. “I pretty much just seal it with furniture polish after I’m done all making my visages of the capricious minstrels. Sometimes a motherfucker does forget to wipe it off my facesponge when I'm getting my motherfucking cozy on the recuperacoon. But yeah, I got gray skin all over, just like you.”

 

He pinches your arm lightly to make his point, his smile ample. He really does have a highblood’s bone structure under there, under the paint. You can see it now that you’re close. Sharp, cold, defined, the conjectural portrait of beauty on Alternia. His lips are good, too, exonerated by the dark paint, the bright white swathed around his dimples. You are unsure what to make out with this realization. Make of this... Shit.

 

“Well, I’m glad to hear you say that,” you say, forgetting what he said already. Oh, yeah. “Also, I think, it might be an unhealthy thing, to use furniture polish on your skin.”

 

Gamzee picks up one of your hands and brings it to his face. Your fingertips caress his cheekbone. The film of the paint is thick, but you can feel his blood’s faint pulsing underneath it.

 

“That all feels pretty healthy to you, don’t it?”

 

This is also the first time you’ve touched another troll’s face. You and Aradia used knock around lightly together during Team Charge campaigns, you even held hands, but there was never any reason to touch her face.

 

Gamzee’s jawline is smooth, rigid bone beneath your palm. His dark, near violet eyes are prepossessing and hypnotic, the bridge of his nose carved stone.

 

You have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.

 

You read in one of the romance novels once – some of them are okay, and Karkat does send you a lot of them – that the way highbloods are built, for all that it’s, well, very beautiful, predisposes them to entry into the High Subjuggulators, personal slaughter service to the Condescension herself. Okay, so almost all the books he sent you were about that. Upon discovering this trait in his mate to be, the typical lovestruck lowblood, pale or red for a highblood, must be carefully aware of Alternian history, its patterns, and its future manifestations. Be careful, the stories say: the heavy bones of your adoree are made to kill.

 

Gamzee is so very peaceful, in contrast. He’s the calmest troll you’ve ever met, all fluid movements and banked humility. You have a hard time imagining him hurting anything. He’s often said that violence scares him. You feel the same way.

 

He tilts his face against your hand.

 

“Ain’t this the sweetest thing,” he says, smiling lazy. “You and me, me and you, finally getting our wicked communion on forreal. We basically been neighbors this whole time we been rapping at each other and we didn’t get our chill on any sooner.”

 

“Yes, I didn’t realize, that you were so close.”

 

You might mean that in more than ways than one.

 

“But it’s okay, because we’re going to play this game together, and maybe afterwards, more chills can follow.”

 

He makes a happy noise that can only be described as a _honk._

 

“I like the motherfucking sound of that. Miracles as far as the eye can see.”

 

 

  

 ♉

 

 

 

While much of your session is spent with Vriska, treasure hunting or agreeing with whatever else she wants you to do, serving Gamzee is one of the highlights of your game. The Land of Tents and Mirth takes up part of your husktop screen and gives you a stream of entertaining things to watch him do, when you have time; he alchemizes crazy one wheel devices, bonks imps with his clubs alongside Karkat, and makes a mess consuming his pies in a number of creative ways. You do a lot of fun things together with his consorts and eventually his imps, like gather them all together for parties - he shares his pies with them and you help out by communing with them through the viewport, grouping dozens of friendly hoards into his area to break bread with him. He's always motherfucking delighted.

 

Just before your team begins Operation Regisurp, Jack Noir starts following Karkat around; Gamzee sits on the ground in the Land of Pulse and Haze, typing into his computer as the two of them come up with some sort of pact beside him. Most of this involves Jack slapping Karkat around and Karkat sobbing. You ask if that's a normal thing they do, as you watch the scene, and Gamzee says "yEaH, tHaTs JuSt HoW tHeY eXpReSs ThIs MiRaClE wE cAlL fRiEnDsHiP." 

 

TC: BuT wHaT yOu GoT yOuR bAd SelF uP tO oVeR tHeRe iN tHe LaNd oF SaNd?  
AT: mOSTLY, jUST SOLVING THE PUZZLES, wHICH i THINK ARE MEANT TO BE SIDE QUESTS, bUT THEY'RE FUN,  
AT: tHE IMPS ARE HELPING OUT A LOT, tINKERBULL SAYS WE GREAT A MAKE TEAM, aND OH, i HAVE A ROCKET CAR NOW,  
AT: sO i DON'T HAVE TO USE THE STAIRS, wHICH VRISKA KEEPS MAKING, pROBABLY TO ANTAGONIZE ME,  
TC: So YoU cAn AlL lIkE fLy?  
AT: yES, fLYING IS A THING, tHAT IS DEFINITELY HAPPENING, }:o)  
TC: }:oO !!!!!!!!  
TC: tHaT's GrEaT nEwS, iT mAkEs Me HaPpY tO hEaR oN tHaT a DrEaM oF yOuRs iS cOmInG tRuE.  
AT: rUFIO TOLD ME NOT TO GIVE UP, tHAT ONE DAY IT WOULD BE POSSIBLE, aND IT TURNS OUT HE WAS RIGHT,  
TC: RuFiO AlL SoUnDs LiKe A sTrOnG, mOtHeRfUcKiN HoPeFuL, HaNdSoMe ChArAcTeR!!!  
TC: JuSt LiKe YoU.  
AT: wHOA,, hAHA,,  
TC: If I cOulD bE a HeLp To YoU lIKe He DoEs, It'D bE tHe HumBlEsT oPpOrTuNiTy I eVeR dId PaRt Of.  
AT: wELL, iT HELPS TO HEAR YOU SAY NICE THINGS ABOUT HIM,  
AT: aND THAT YOU DON'T THINK, mY BELIEF IN HIM IS STUPID,  
TC: NaH bRo, ThE lAsT tHiNg ThAt's BeInG lIkE iS sTuPiD.  
TC: I pRoMiSE, iF i CaN bE rEmInDiNg YoU oF mAkInG sUrE yOu DoN't SaY tHat NoIsE wHaT hUrTs HiS FeElInGs, i'M tHeRe LiKe A sEcOnd mOtHeRfUcKiN iTeRaTiOn oF tHaT mOtHeRfUcKeR!  
TC: HoNk HoNk HoNk  
AT: tHATS, a NICE WAY TO THINK ABOUT OUR FRIENDSHIP,  
AT: tHANK YOU, sECOND RUFIO, };o)  
AT: bUT THE THINGS YOU BRING TO THE TABLE, aS YOURSELF, aRE ALSO PRETTY ENCOURAGING,  
AT: sUCH AS, i LIKE TO HEAR YOU TALK ABOUT YOUR RELIGION, tHE MIRTHFUL PARADISE PLANET, aND OTHER SORTS OF CLOWN PRESAGES,  
AT: tHEY ARE INSPIRING TO ME LIKE RUFIO IS,  
AT: wHEN PEOPLE MAKE FUN OF ME, fOR HAVING AN IMAGINARY FRIEND,  
AT: i THINK ABOUT YOU, aND HOW YOU ALWAYS BELIEVE IN YOUR VARIOUS THEOLOGIES,  
AT: wHICH i THINK, wILL BECOME REAL SOMEDAY, iF YOU BELIEVE HARD ENOUGH, lIKE i BELIEVED THAT i COULD FLY,  
TC: FuCk YeAh, yOu AlL gOt To Be BeLiEvInG iN tHe BeTtEr DaYs To CoMe.  
TC: GlAd I cAn HeLp A bRoThEr KeEp HiS fAiTh!  
AT: i'M GLAD TOO,  
AT: yOU INSPIRE ME, gAMZEE,  
TC: MaN, wE aLl GoT tO gEt OuR hAnG oUt Up On SoOn.  
TC: MaYbe YoU cAn MaKe YoUr WaY tO kArKaT's PlAnEt NoW, aNd uS tHrEe CaN bE aDveNtUrInG toGeThEr ThIcK aS tHiEvEs.  
TC: }:o?

 

But every time your conversations end like this, the limitations of your stage crash down, a reality check: she has too many plans, all the plans, for you to wander off and get distracted with anyone else. His invitations aren't even something you bother to ask her if you can do, because she'd probably say no.

 

AT: uH,, tHAT SOUNDS LIKE A REALLY GREAT TIME,,,  
AT: bUT i THINK, vRISKA WOULDN'T ALLOW ME TO GO,,  
AT: sINCE WE'VE BEEN TRAINING A LOT, aND SHE WANTS ME TO STAY ON TASK,,  
AT: sORRY,,,  
TC: No WoRrIeS sWeEt BrOtHeR.  
TC: HaVe FuN wItH yOuR tRaInInG aNd PuZzLeS.  
TC: i'Ll cAtCh Up WiTh YoU tHe NeXt TiMe We BoTh SleEp.  
AT: oKAY,  
AT: sEE YOU THEN,

 

Somehow though, your cahoots with Vriska reach a rather positive upswing, after a brief and disastrous misunderstanding surrounding your first kiss. You're just so relieved that she forgave your dress-up mishap, relieved that the time you spend on the Land of Maps and Treasure with her is filled with excitement, success, chests full of boonbucks, and quality time. It's the first time you think she's truly proud of you.

 

But Aradiabot was planning to seek revenge; she beats the living shit out of Vriska right in front of you, so much so you think she might be dead on impact. Horrified, but realizing she's still hanging on, you try to steady yourself enough to revive her dreamself with a kiss; she manipulates you to choke yourself before you can manage. You fly with her bloodied body dangling over your car, trying to pay her back for all she's given you.

 

 _8ut do it fast, ok? Please don't make me 8leed to death slowly_  

 

_Tavros, hurry up!_

 

_DO IT YO8 COW8RD!!!!!!!! K8LL M8 K8LL M8 K8LLM8K8LLM8!!!!!!!!_

 

It shocked you too much. You flew back to your lofted hive on LOSAZ and cried yourself to sleep.

 

Sleep then became the highlight of your game. It was already gearing up to be so.

 

Prospit is the most wonderful place you've ever been in: holy golden architecture, brightness all around, and oh, you can walk and fly with total ease. It's like you've somehow cheated your way into being healed. It's so great! The first time you woke up here, you wanted to stay for the rest of your journey. Unfortunately, the game had other plans.

 

You've been on the golden planet for basically five days straight, ever since the incident. If anyone has been trying to reach your real self, which, let's face it, they probably aren't, you wouldn't know it. Every time you wake up in the real world, you feel so numb and sad that you will yourself back into dozing.

 

Nearly every time you wake up on Prospit, Gamzee leaves you a note beside your stone cocoon. You think he comes to check if you're awake every time he's here, and when he finds you asleep, he lets you know he's thinking of you. Today, the message is simple:

 

WelCoMe BaCk To DrEaMlAnD }:o) i MiSsEd YoU.

 

You know the way to his tower by memory. Sometimes you miss each other and you arrive to find him slumbering and snoring lightly. You'd leave him cute notes too, but you can never think of anything adequate to say. This time, he's awake and waiting for you. He knows you've been spending a lot of time here the last few days, but you still haven't told him why.

 

He flies with you, and you lead, to one of your favorite high spots near the kingdom. You land on the roof and sit cross-legged, staring out at the vast expanse of rolling buildings. He sits close to you, knee against yours, and you ask Rufio to help you retell the incident. It's time to talk about it to someone, if you're going to move past it. Gamzee listens intently to every word as you describe the details, and you're grateful. My, are you grateful for him.

 

“It was distressing to see, and I ran away crying, I mean, flew away crying. She, um. H-had so much blood. And she’s going to hate me forever, I think, because I couldn’t watch her suffer, and…because of all those other mistakes I made earlier.”

 

Gamzee looks at you wide eyed, almost scandalized. “What did you do?”

 

“Oh, I pretty much, just misinterpreted our relationship. She wasn’t really happy about that, if the messages she sent me in that memo with Karkat, where I, made a fool of myself as usual, asking about it in front of everyone, are anything to go by. Did you…uh, see those?”

 

“Nah. I don’t be getting my proper read on all the memos like that often, even though my brother Karkat pours his heart and soul into them bitching scriptures. I can’t be ever remembering what week a memo got started or what past or future motherfucker wants to be all chatting at some present motherfucker. So, yeah, I ain’t see what you said about Vris.”

 

“She maybe had, or actually, probably definitely had, some kind of flushed feelings for me, for a while, which I didn’t know what to make of, since everything with her was mostly terrifying, and confusing. Right before, we started treasure hunting together, she used the mind control to crash my rocket car into her hive, in the second gate, and I fell out. She picked me up, still with the mind control, to uh, kiss me, and when I didn’t really know how to respond, she left me lying there, and it was really awkward. I thought, maybe things would be okay for a while after, but I found another way, to make her mad at me again.”

 

Gamzee pouts.

 

“So yeah, that’s the gist of it,” you say, giving him an out. “I’m basically, an incompetent motherfucker, I think.”

 

“Hey now, don’t all be talking about my favorite guy like that. Rufio says to not encourage that noise either.” His hand squeezes your knee, and  _you can feel it,_ and that will never not be a novelty here. “I have it on good motherfucking authority that you're brave, and that that was some scary motherfucking business to be a part of. Don't blame yourself on it too hard, you read me? You did what you could do for her. It's done.”

 

You feel a wave of comfort soothe over you. That's Rufio giving you one of those encouraging massages, as if to say, _good job bro!,_ and it's also just Gamzee being Gamzee. You smile. “Thanks for saying that, really.”

 

“It’s what I’m up and here for. And Spidersis is all good, on the other side. She went god tier, and I don't think I get at what the motherfuck that means in this mystical game, but she's all got her real arm and her boss ass magic eye back. So I think you're both motherfucking even."

 

You nod, mostly in agreement, and try to imagine her god tier. You can't picture it at all. It's been the stuff of exciting rumors amongst your team, whatever god tier is. You have pretty much zero concept of what it is either. You were never interested in ranks. You just wanted to have fun. You haven't really looked at your echeladder in weeks. It notifies you when you've ascended, but you decided early on that you'd rather not count.

 

"Stole your first kiss away though, that’s all supposed to be a beautiful eye-opening experience. That just ain’t motherfucking right.”

 

You flush. He's had a pretty commiserative look on his face this whole time, but there's playful whimsy there now. This is it again. _Maybe he_ _wants you to kiss him._

 

“I think I’ve decided, that that one doesn’t count, because I didn’t really choose it, and I didn't get to, dip the person heroically, and say something charming, the way the attractive hero in a romance novel does.”

 

Gamzee’s smile expands and sparkles. “Shit, you like to get your quadrant reading on too all like my other best friend? I didn’t peg you as the type to like to look at those ripped half naked motherfuckers what be on the covers.”

 

You laugh outright at that, so sudden it surprises you, blushing darker. “Yes, some of the stories are pretty, uh, graphic…Karkat tends to forget, to redact the dirty scenes, even though I ask him to, if he insists I read all twenty books.”

 

Gamzee reaches for one of your hands; he draws faint patterns on your palm with his fingertips, playing with your skin.

 

“You ever been pale with anybody before?”

 

If he keeps doing that with your hand, you - god, you don't even know.

 

“No, not that I, uh.” You clear your throat. “You?”

 

Gamzee shrugs. The corners of his mouth twitch.

 

“Think I’m going pinkish on a motherfucker lately.”

 

You laugh again, a nervous wreck.

 

“Oh, uh, who?”

 

Gamzee laughs too, though he graciously changes the subject. _S_ _mooth,_ _T_ _roll_ _C_ _asanova._

 

"But I wanted to be all telling you," he says. "You should get back to doing those puzzle quests you were always rapping about liking so much in the earlier. Everyone out there is saying this and that about the exiles and something about a frog, and some big motherfucker with a crown we all prototyped with Royalsis's frightmare what releases the Vast Honk. But it's so many other little miracles in this bitch we should be all enjoying before that seriousness shows up. I don't know, I just thought it might cheer you up on the other side if you got to doing something that's only just for you."

 

You realize he's right. As nice as it is to be here, you were having fun on LOSAZ before Vriska's interventions started to go too far. Now that she's probably going to steer clear of you after what happened, maybe you'll have time to get back to that.

 

You ask if Gamzee will come along sometime, to help acclimate yourself to your real body again. He says he couldn’t be motherfucking happier.

 

 

 

 ♉

 

 

 

During what will be last days of the session - you don't know this at the time, because the only person you're in touch with has even less of a concept of time than you - you manage to gain all but the final level on your echeladder. You finally find the courage to check the echeladder, for the progress you didn't even know you'd been making, when Gamzee finally joins you on LOSAZ, feeding slime pies to your underling army, spreading mirth and good cheer. They take to him immediately, aided by your mass communion, and he seems to be having the time of his life making new friends. The slime in their pans fuzzes your communion slightly, blurring and buzzing the lines, a contact high that only adds to your enjoyment. You also commune with the white hoofbeasts in the rolling hills, encouraging them to come over and play, and Gamzee rides one into the sunset and back.

 

The beasts have been telling you lately, now that you're nearing completely leveled up, that the crux of your personal quest is to reverse LOSAZ’s desertification, which includes nourishing the planet with rainstorms. As the session has gone on, the planet has become hotter and dryer. The herds of hoofbeasts, as well as the imps, consorts and ogres, are overgrazing the land, consuming too much vegetation for it to sustain itself. Inadvertently, you solved some of the latter problem by starting your army, leaving vast parts of the land alone to grow in peace for weeks, without the creatures chafing over them.

 

But before you can visit Typheus, LOSAZ's denzien underground, they say, you must complete all the puzzles in the temples. The magic artifacts you have been winning for completing the puzzles are white-gray orbs, semi translucent, which look like they have clouds inside them. They are larger and larger each time you discover them.

 

The ones you find with Gamzee during the final days look like they have lightning crashing inside them. They're odd and strangely calming to behold; you've collected each one in your sylladex since the start of the game, even before you knew you were supposed to hold onto them, even when Vriska told you that they were useless, valueless pearls.

 

You take a break at the end of one of the temples to troll Terezi briefly, asking about denziens, what you should do. The imps have given you the impression that Typheus won't have to be battled. Instead, he will want to talk.

 

GC: WH4T?  
GC: WHY WOULD YOU T4LK TO 1T  
GC: 4LMOST 3V3RYON3 H4S 4LR34DY K1LL3D TH31R D3NZI3NS  
GC: 3V3N G4MZ33

 

You glance over at him at this; he's lazing on his side, letting one of the imps eat pie right out of his hands. No, she can't be right; from what you can tell from the last few weeks, his offensive strategy consists of getting the enemy high and absconding. He was collecting grist from imps during the first few days, but you haven't seen him harm a hair on a head since he got the bright idea to get all the heads stoned. All of them.

 

You tell Terezi that you don’t want to kill Typheus, that you _can’t,_ that you don’t think you’re supposed to. Terezi’s not very interested in your approach.

 

GC: SHRUG  
GC: L3T M3 KNOW 1F YOU CH4NG3 YOUR M1ND >:]

 

You leave the current temple with Gamzee, your infantry of thousands trailing several yards behind. You let them hang out in the fields before the entrance while you and Gamzee stop to rest under a vast array of windmills.

 

Gamzee helps you out of your rocket car, and you and he lie on your backs beneath the windmills. Gamzee tells you a joke in your ear, and also tickles you, and at the peak of your laughter, a strong breeze sweeps through the field; the windmills react in kind, spinning wildly above you. You don't know where the wind came from, but it feels like a sign, like a quick gift from the game to cleanse your spirit.

 

Gamzee eventually goes back to his own planet, as Karkat keeps trolling him that there are things he needs to "FINISH UP THERE." You're okay with this, thanking him for all his help, and promising you'll see him later. You have two more temples left to uncover, so you gather up your army and charge ahead. After the final temple's puzzle, you find the last of the white storm orbs, this one several yards in circumference, heavy and thick. The weather inside is spinning around like a tornado, wild rain splashing the sides, the lightening so bright it startles you. You stow it away in your sylladex, feeling accomplished, though the last notch of your echeladder still hasn't triggered. You wonder why. It's always been unclear to you what exactly makes it rise.

 

Though you should probably make your way to the denzien now that you're done, you still too nervous, and you stall. Part of you wants to trust what the underlings are saying, but apparently the rest of your team aggressed the enormous endame monsters in self-defense, and you can't tell who's right. You really don't want to die here, not after all this. As goes your rigged self-reward system, you decide to take another visit to Prospit, to clear your head and think it over. You do less thinking about LOSAZ and more floating aimlessly, thinking about literally anything else.

 

On what ends up being the last day of the session, you finally will yourself into Typheus's lair. When you arrive alone in your rocket car, Typheus is calm in outward appearance; and he speaks to you in your mind without the need for your psychics.

 

Typheus tells you he's the reason the planet's desertification is happening; the longer he remains here without player influence, the hotter LOSAZ’s sun will burn until the planet is bones and dust. Thus, Typheus says, you must make The Choice: you must use your Breath powers to release all 26 of the weather orbs into LOSAZ’s atmosphere, which will stoke the storms on a larger scale, above each temple from which they were scavenged. You must stay and survive through the adverse weather as/until all the storms are released, during which you could be killed.

 

You are at a complete loss to hear this, to say the least. Breath powers? What Breath powers? To your knowledge, there hasn't been any sign of your aspect manifesting on your person. It's been happening to your friends - Terezi can map the innermost workings of people's minds, Aradiabot has always been able to time travel, Kanaya has been given the task of creating the universe - except Gamzee, his title confuses you more than your own does. 

 

You have no idea how to start, and you still don't want to die. “How do I get the weather out?”

 

Typheus doesn't say. He only dismisses you to go and make The Choice. 

 

You exit the lair and return to the dessert. It seems to be hotter and drier now that you've spoken to him, and your underling army is clearly feeling the heat. You remove a few of the smaller weather orbs from your sylladex, staring at them in resentment. You realize that you weren't keeping track of where you picked them up over the weeks, so even if you knew how to release them - besides throwing them at the ground, which you consider, but what if that doesn't work and you ruin them? - you wouldn't know _where_ to release them. It’s at this point that you consider giving up on the quest, or so you think on the surface of your mind.

 

Really, deep down, you've already deigned to quit entirely. You're starting to think you had even before you started. You don't want to bother anyone else asking how you could do it; you wish you could just fend for yourself, sometimes. You apologize to your army, that you aren't able to save them from the desert today, but that you're working on a plan. Are you, though? Then, you go to sleep on Prospit once more.

 

Gamzee has left you a note, saying that he's been talking to Mr. Milkshake again about the in-game solution for your paralysis. When you get to his tower, he’s on his husktop typing lazily, floating midair with it in his lap. You fly up behind to give him a gentle surprise, covering his eyes with your hands. He reaches to take your hands and drops the husktop onto the ground.

 

It completely breaks, all shattered glass and fibers. Gamzee shrugs, still holding your hands and claiming he has another one somewhere in deep his modus. Given the nature of that thing, you don’t know if he’ll ever find it. Well. At least you probably have more time.

 

“Before we get to all unlocking Mr. Milkshake’s riddles,” Gamzee says, letting the miracle modus run idly and splash its colors against the walls. It really is a pretty light show. You think you'll just enjoy it for the clusterfuck it is, for now. "How did the rest of the puzzles go?"

 

"Um." You don't wanna lie to him, it feels wrong. But. "I finished them."

 

That's technically not a lie. You did finish the _puzzles._

 

The look of pride he gives you makes you feel a little bit better about sugarcoating the truth.

 

You lace you fingers within his tighter, and he responds by pulling you in closer. You're dancing on the edge of a critical moment with him; he sweeps his hand through the curly mohawk of your hair, toying with it lightly, and you sigh in relief. He tilts your chin up with his forefinger, his thumb slowly tracing the ridge of your jawline.

 

"Gamzee..."

 

His thumb maps the shape of your lower lip.

 

"Have I ever fucking told you how pretty you are?" He tugs down on your lip slightly, and you tongue threatens to slip out and taste him. "'Cause you are motherfucking  _pretty._ It's not even being fair."

 

You feel a swift kick to your ribcage. You yank your hands from him, yelp and spin around, only to get kicked in the side again, much harder.

 

Oh. It's coming from outside.

 

You are rudely re-awakened back on LOSAZ, Vriska standing above you with her hands on her hips. Both hands. Her other arm has truly regrown, the tattered sleeve of her jacket still ripped around it, and her vision eightfold is gloriously restored.

 

"Wakey wakey, toreadumbass. Time to go serve the Black King's ass to him on a platter. Try not to fall asleep during the battle. Or do. Whatever."

 

 

 

 ♉

 

 

 

Hours ago...

 

 

 

It all happened so fast, you still don’t know what to make of it. You and your eleven teammates are now in a strange, vast lab on a Veil meteor, according to Aradiabot; she warped you all here the second the demon appeared and slashed your reward door, and that’s the thing you’re most confused about. Where did that monster come from?

 

It’s been a haze of mostly arguments since then, the twelve of you getting your bearings and trying to figure out what comes next. Several of your more technically inclined members – so basically Sollux – are typing away at the computers lining the walls of this room, trying to connect to something somewhere. No one has stopped to explain to you what the plan is. Nepeta answered your questions, but only to tell you she has no idea what’s happening either.

 

Back in your four wheel device, the rocket car stowed in your sylladex, you watch as Vriska and Karkat yell at each other in loaded phrases you can’t make out, on top of all the other chatter. Everyone is bickering about what happened at the platform and whose fault it was, and you have no opinion on that matter – shit, it could’ve been your fault for all you know – so you stay quiet and anxious, watching them fume. As always, your find your eyes fluttering towards Gamzee now and then; he’s talking to Terezi about something.

 

Kanaya interrupts your view of them, standing before you tall and regal, her wax-black lips pressed in a firm line.

 

“I’ve been dispatched to ask if you would like to be the subject of an experiment.”

 

You have no idea what she means by that. “Uh.”

 

“Equius needs to do something with his hands that isn’t breaking things since we’re probably going to be stuck here for the forseeable future. He says he would like to build you something.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like legs.”

 

You watch Equius now; he’s emptied out a great deal of the contents of his sylladex on the lab floor, mostly sheets of metal, wires, power tools, robot parts, and broken alchemized bows. Nepeta is cheerfully talking to him and looking over his shoulder, and you can’t see what he’s doing with the metal, but you can see how drenched he is in sweat.

 

You know he’s damn good at what he does – just look at Aradia’s soulbot, Vriska’s formidable arm – but he’s never offered something like this for you. He’s been flushed – or black? who knows – for Aradia for perigees, and Vriska’s his neighbor. But you? He’s barely spoken to you since the game started. You can’t remember the last time you had a conversation with him one on one, actually. Maybe it’s never even happened.

 

You stare down at your legs, the plain black pants hugging your thighs, worse for wear, the dirty white socks shoved in your sandals. It’s never occurred to you to fix this problem with prosthetics. It’s never occurred to you to fix it in any way that isn’t, well, magic.

 

You shift forward in your seat at the waist the way you used to at the beginning, the precipice of trying to stand; the muscle memory still wants to be there, even now that you’re used to half of your body being a ghost, never responding.

 

The thought that you could press yourself all the way out of the chair sparks something in you suddenly. You aren’t sure why Equius would give such a charitable gift, but damn if you don’t want to know what it’s like to feel again. Rufio says that you can do this. That it’d be _badass_ to do this. He stokes an urgent fire, and you run with it.

 

“I guess,” you say, smiling, “if it’d give him something to do, and it’d help me out also.”

 

Kanaya nods. “I’ve also been dispatched to service the amputation.”

 

You blanch. “Uh, right now?”

 

“I don’t see why not.”

 

Of course, she has to sever your body. What did you think, Equius would wrap his robotics _around_ the no good legs? He built Vriska’s arm from pulp, from missing space. You have to lose a lot, sometimes, to gain.

 

You take a nervous gander around the room, to see how prepared everyone else might be for this impromptu and very bloody surgery. Vriska is apparently done with Karkat’s raving, standing over Equius and complaining; Nepeta has since fled from Vriska’s presence and is trying to make some headway with Aradiabot, unsuccessfully; Feferi and Eridan are arguing, again; and Karkat and Terezi are huddled around Sollux at a computer. Karkat’s still yelling. It’s almost like white noise.

 

And Gamzee is…emptying his miracle modus one horn at a time, building a pyre on the floor. He looks _happy,_ like none of this has fazed him. You could just hug him.

 

You think that’s one of the first things you’ll do, once you stand.

 

“Okay,” you say to Kanaya. “I’ll do it.”

 

Vriska uses her powers to put you to sleep for the amputation. They'll be strong enough, she says, that your dream self won't feel any pain. You’re surprised she wants to help, and Kanaya doesn’t seem to want it, but she insists. You all know how she gets when she insists.

 

As you lie on the floor in wait, nearly everyone has heard that you’re going under the knife - or chainsaw, in this case - including Gamzee. You’re so panicked that all of them will watch this, at least until they get bored – and what if it still hurts? what if you lose too much blood? what if you die? - that you can’t just pass out on your own accord.

 

When Vriska takes over, you’re immediately back on Prospit. You awake in your golden tower, stretch your limbs and float to your feet. It’s pretty amazing that you still get to wake up here, that you can still fly in your fantasies even though the game is lost. What if you will always dream of Prospit from now on, as some kind of reward for playing? You’ll take it.

 

You fly from your window and into the dark sky. There was no note waiting from Gamzee this time, but you expected that – his eyes were one of the last pair you saw, wide and wondrous, over the ripping sound of the chainsaw, before you peacefully drifted. You wonder if maybe he went to sleep to see you here.

 

You hover to his tower, letting yourself in through the window, and there he is; Gamzee sits on the stone bed, spacing out at what must be some miraculous hallucination on the ceiling. His lips are curled into that wide, easy smile that makes you go weak.

 

“Hey,” you say to him, and he drifts out of his musings presently.

 

“You all motherfucking good out there, on the other side?” He gestures for you to sit next to him, and you do. “Spidersis was all saying that you won’t feel a thing ‘til you wake up, but fuck, I got my worry on for you anyway so I snoozed up in the horn pile.”

 

“Thank you, for the solidarity.” You offer him your fist to bunp, and he does. “I guess, I don’t know how I feel on the other side, right now. That’s kind of the point, of coming here.”

 

Gamzee whistles. “That’s motherfucking deep, like you always are. Anyway they said it wouldn’t take it long. Strong brother already up and made the root of the thing before you were out.”

 

You nod. “So, what should we do, while we wait?”

 

Gamzee takes your hand, winks.

 

“What else?”

 

You fly, reaching new heights, chasing each other around until you're breathless. Your game of tag ends mutually, both of you floating in space, and he brings you into an embrace with him not unlike the last one you shared when you were here.

 

Your head is tucked into his shoulder, and he's spinning the both of you around as if you're dancing.

 

“I wish,” you say into his ear, “I could stay here forever.”

 

He hugs you closer.

 

“Same, bro. Motherfucking same.”

 

That's when you wake up.

 

There's a lot of commotion going on. You stay on your back for longer than is probably necessary, staring down at the intricate metal workings of your new appendages, letting the victory settle in. Standing up is more difficult than you imagined, still sort of painful from the freshness of the surgery, but Terezi, Gamzee and Kanaya help lift you onto your feet.

 

You see that the clutter in the main computer room has compounded exponentially; everyone seems to be nesting, and that makes you weirdly happy for reasons you're not gonna bother analyzing. Your friends - except Karkat, it appears he knocked out at some point and people are taking turns messing with his unconscious form - are making a fuss about these aliens called humans, the apparent new lifeforms on the universe you created and were barred from. You’ll check that out later. For now, you just want to hang out with Gamzee, and run with him (because you can).

 

Gamzee takes you through a transportalizer into an empty room with an open door, where he's set up yet another pile. This one's bigger than the one in the main lab. When did he even have time to make this one? How many horns does he just carry around? You don't know and you don't care.

 

Your legs are an amazing confidence booster on the surface, but they're still an adjustment; for one, you can’t feel anything against the metal husks. Not the ground you walk on, nor the horns beneath your thighs right now. It’s what makes walking and running again so clumsy, having to guess where your feet will land, how even the floor is beneath you. Gamzee has his hand on one of your ankles right now, fingertips grazing steel, eyes wide in curiosity. You wish so badly that you could feel his touch. He doesn’t seem to know you can’t, so you let him play.

 

“Fucking miracles,” he says, letting his graceful fingers scale up your shin. Braver still, he skirts them to your knee. “How it all got to being _alive_ and getting you on your upright...I could just motherfucking look all night.”

 

 _Higher,_ the part of you that wants him thinks to his hand, just so you can watch him touch you there.

 

“It’s, uh, really a technical feat, Equius, is shithive maggots at robotics.”

 

Gamzee snorts.

 

You take this opportunity to peak his curiosity.

 

“The legs are, wired into my spine,” you say. “Wanna see?”

 

Gamzee blinks at you slowly, purple rising in his cheeks. “Shit, yeah, that’s all a thing I could be seeing.”

 

You sit up a bit, squeaking errant horns as you shift your weight, and lift the hem of your t-shirt. You scoop your arms out and leave it draped above your shoulders. Gamzee has his eyes everywhere but your face, and it’s as thrilling as it vulnerable. The scar tissue around your waist is still puffing and oozing, and your grubscars have always been thicker and meatier than you think is normal, almost like you never really grew out of them. You pivot clumsily, sliding your foot from his grasp, until you’re showing him your back, which helps ease your subjection.

 

Gamzee shifts forward and his knees let out another squeal of _honks,_ which sound so loud and silly that it also eases the moment. You laugh a little, so does he. But then he’s touching you; some fingers bump over metal clasps and others wisp your skin where they’re connected, starting at the apex of your spine and trailing down. You have chills almost instantly, especially as his hand rounds the curve of your lower back, the bundle of sensitive tech there; you can almost feel his breath against your skin.

 

“Fuck,” he whispers, starting his trail back to the top. “’s so motherfucking perfect.”

 

You can’t tell if he’s talking about the parts or your back. You can't even ask.

 

“Karkat fainted,” you say instead, and now Gamzee is definitely not touching your robospine; his fingers graze your scapula like he’s painting. “Did he wake up yet?”

 

“Fuck, not that I all fucking know of.” You feel him draw his signature little smiley face, hoop nose and all. “Best friend is always getting shouty about how motherfucking bloodthirsty he is but I think he flipped his whole pan seeing Chainsis do her thing. Lights motherfucking out the very moment you got slid.”

 

It’s not funny – and it’s not like you’d’ve done much better - but it’s just so _Karkat._

 

“Tell him I’m sorry, for the trouble,” you say, and now that you think about it, he’s gonna be _pissed_ when he sees you next, “and maybe, for the headache, from when he fell.”

 

“Shoosh, consider the message already up and relayed, other best friend.”

 

You turn back around to face him, slowly sliding your shirt back through your arms and over your ribs, wincing at the tightness at your incision. Gamzee has some decorum about him to look away as you do this, as if you _covering_ yourself is the part that’s intimate. You don’t know how that works for him, or why it makes you feel more flustered than taking your shirt off.

 

"I don't be wanting to get my make out on with all my best friends, though."

 

Gamzee says it after such a long pause, you'd swear you misheard him. You stare at him in wonder. This is probably the third time he's put it out there for you like that. You've graduated past the point of absconding like a cluckbeast afraid of losing its head, but still, it sends nervous energy everywhere your body can hold it. Hot, buzzing energy.

 

Rufio tells you to _go for it, dog!_ and you can’t let him down now.

 

"I, want to kiss you," you say, as Gamzee stares at your lips, and _oh,_ that look in his eyes is going to end you, "but I uh, don't know how."

 

Gamzee shrugs, his smile all dimples and glimmer. "Shit, can't say I got my underfuckingstanding on it either. But I figure, I motherfucking like you, and I think you’re all getting at something like liking me."

 

"You are very correct, in thinking that."

 

"So why don't we just touch each other sweet and see how it goes?”

 

You are breathless, already his. "Yes. Okay."

 

Gamzee makes the first move; he leans in, slow as possible, before finally touching your lips with his own, supple-soft. It’s just that at first, just solid, faint contact, and already, you feel heat blooming all over you. He experiments, then, tilting his head and kissing you again, and oh, that angle is nice; his hands snake up to your sides, gently touching the sensitive places where skin meets metal. He catches your lower lip between his, sucking. You involuntarily thrum and chirp, soft little noises from your throat. Gamzee smiles against your mouth.

 

“I think I like that,” you say, “very much, a lot.”

 

“Well that’s all good to hear, ‘cause I been saving up these kisses for you, Pupa.” He demonstrates again, this time with just a prick of fang; it sends a little jump through you, inciting fire. “I all thought I had so many that I didn’t know what to do with them. But here you are. And here I am.”

 

You cuddle with him in the horn pile, papping faces, kissing slow, until footsteps echo the room.

 

“Oh, shoot.” Equius stands in the doorway, fidgeting, grimacing. “Forgive me, highblood, I hope I’m not – interrupting.”

 

“Nah, it’s all motherfucking bitchtits, Equibro.” Gamzee untangles himself from you, scratching his head, and _that’s a new one,_ you think,  _Equibro._ You snicker quietly.

 

“Karkat is awake,” Equius says, “and now claims to have urgent developments to report on the universe we created, so he orders – he _requests_ for all of us to be in the same room, so as not to have to repeat his crude diatribe more than once. If it – if it pleases the highblood.”

 

“Sure. Just one motherfucking thing.”

 

He opens his miracle modus for all of a second and a pie launches out, flaying the wall right next to Equius’ head.

 

“Whoops.” Gamzee flicks the modus open again, and another pie – the last one, as you would later learn – drops directly into his lap this time, all jiggling green mucilage. He pokes around it in with two fingers, bringing them to his tongue and slowly licking them clean. For once you’re glad you lack sensation below the waist, because that is. Distracting.

 

You’re aware of how you must be looking at him, because Equius, now damp, is staring between you two in horror.

 

“I’ll – see myself out.”

 

 

 

 ♉

 

  

 

Aradiabot’s sudden explosion was what began your descent into the tension, now that you think about it; things were never going to be the same.

 

You weren’t in the main computer room at the time – you were using your husktop in a hallway several portalizers down, trolling the attractive but inpenetrable Dave human, poorly, and curiously eyeing the very pretty Jade’s viewport, trying out your first few conversations with her. It wasn’t until you ascended after some time that you found the scene of the aftermath:

 

The burns in the floor, the shards of her metal scattered, Equius and Nepeta collecting the broken pieces. Sollux is sitting at a computer near the wreckage, but doing nothing on it; his glasses are off, perched on the keyboard, and he's making no effort to hide his tears, his depression. This is how you know it's only just happened – soon, he will swing back towards manic, apathetic and sarcastic and seething insults at Karkat.

 

You approach Nepeta and Equius, bloodpusher pumping rapid, dread sinking in.

 

“What happened?”

 

Nepeta pouts. “We don't know, Aradia just exploded all of fur sudden! All she was doing was talking to Sollux, and then she hugged him, and then  _poof._ "

 

"It wasn't the machine," Equius says, not looking at either of you, vigorously sweeping up shrapnel. "It was perfection, it was cooled, it - shouldn't've malfunctioned like this. It's _impossible_."

 

You decide to help them clean up the mess, but you can't continue after you find a piece of one of her red eyes. You hold the glasslike shard in your hands and remember the way she was warm, warmer than you, radiating heat when you stood close; you remember her scaling cavern walls in ruins, sweating as she levied stones, waiting up when you fell behind.

 

It takes you almost another hour to process. Not unlike the fact that you’ve never really acknowledged that Aradia _is_ dead. That she has been for a long time.

 

Her death being tied up in your paralysis gives it a numbness; helpless feelings you deflected, diluted, for your sanity's sake. Every sweep between your friends back on Alternia, there was at least one interval of bloodshed and cycles of revenge. You truly knew your friends were dangerous when Sollux trolled you a mere night after your accident, with the news of Aradia’s burial at her now desecrated hive. It hurts you to think of that memory, even still; there was no way you could be there to help lay her to rest, not with your injury.

 

There has been a distance between you and Aradia ever since. It isn't really her fault, as she was incapable feeling much postmortem. No, this is on you. Even when she was a ghost, and you could still get her on Trollian if you needed, things had changed. There was none of her lively magnetism, the attention, affection, and boldness that you know Aradia best for. Instead she was cold, uncanny predictions and indifference.

 

But at least her soul was still _there._

 

You now wish you’d tried to spend more time with her during the game; she wouldn’t've suffered it, you think, as she was always a lone wolf, jumping forward or backward in time to keep you all in order. She didn't need you. There were so many of her, too, that it was hard to see a network of bots as the same troll you grew up with. Nothing marked the distance between you more than the way you felt when you saw several thousands of her metal husks transporting themselves into The Battlefield. She was a mechanical, coordinated force.

 

Her whole death thing scared you, so you pretended to ignore it. Now she’s gone.

 

When you were Team Charge - alive, able and well - Aradia always told you to never fear death. She gave you advice on how dangerous FLARP could be, that you two should stick together, but that if adventure ends in death, it’s not always the end of the story.

 

You always knew she heard the voices of the dead; lowblood psychics are mysterious in power, and as she never fully grasped how your mind bends creatures, you never fully grasped her affinity with the grave.

 

A sweep and a half ago: you’re at her hive finishing the new additions to your FLARP outfits. Two clunky sewing devices and hills of cloth rest between you on a wire table. She pauses in the middle of saying something to you because ghosts are speaking to her. You wait, patiently, watching the minute changes in her expression; her gold eyes expand, her brows quirk, she chuckles. They must have a lot to say tonight.

 

She comes back to presently, exhaling a musical sigh.

 

“Sorry!” she says. “I haven’t heard anyone in a few nights, but we’re preparing for a FLARP campaign, so they're prying. Sometimes ghosts of trolls who died playing the game will come and whisper future intel.”

 

“Really?” you say. “Like, they give you strategy, or maps to hidden treasure?”

 

“No it’s not really like that. Not game mechanics or…it’s more ominous, like the broad outcomes of the sessions all of us play, sweeps and sweeps in perspective. You know Vriska’s victims keep saying that she’s not going to get away with what she does. They say that one day, she’ll feel all of the betrayal that they ever felt at her hands combined.”

 

This startles you. Vriska made a promise early on that her friends were never lusus food. You considered it a privilege to know her for that reason. Thousands of trolls a sweep fall prey to her feeding scheme, but are their sacrificed souls really plotting revenge?  _Can_ they?

 

“Are the ghosts, um, usually right? That sounds like, something she should be warned about, maybe.”

 

“Most of the time they are, yeah. You reap the access to freely navigate time when you're a spirit; the past, the present and the future are all in one moment! You have knowledge of both the beginning of all times and the end. Just one of the _many_ gifts of being dead!”

 

You're as intrigued as you are terrified. Aradia notes your expression, which has probably shifted into something like the spooks.

 

“Okay, let’s take a break from the costumes,” she says, moving the bundle of cloth fed in the sewing device from her lap to the table. “I don't know about you, but the ruins are calling me. Wanna go explore?”

 

You excavated a massive granite reliquary, thousands of sweeps old, and made out like bandits. You sit with the treasure behind you on a grassy hill near her hive, overlooking her rustblood lawnring; against the blue-teal starry sky, green hivestems wax and wane. You split with her a sugary grubloaf, your shoes off, toes wiggling against the grass. 

 

"Promise me that when I'm a ghost," Aradia says, "you'll let me come back to haunt you."

 

You half laugh, half cough at a piece of loaf caught in your windpipe.

 

"You know you say, just about the creepiest things sometimes, Aradia. But, yes, I guess, you can haunt me. But only, in the nice way."

 

"Of course! The  _nicest._ "

 

She was the most important member of your Sgurb team. Even those who were creeped out by her methodical antics, or thought she was inferior because of her blood, can admit that you're all still here because of her. She’s the only one who truly understood what was going to happen at the critical moment; now it feels that threads are bare, that time is winding faster, out of control.

 

You miss her more than you can handle, all of a sudden. You go to great lengths to distract yourself. Too many.

 

 

 

  ♉

 

 

 

Back in the present...

 

 

 

For however long you sleep, curled against Terezi’s Scalemates, a nightmare seizes your thinkpan, never lets go. You see a dark abyss of undulating tentacles, hear hostile, indistinguishable, horrific voices screeching. Everything hurts, especially your mind.

 

When you wake up, it’s in a cold sweat; for a moment, as your head bangs and pounds, you forget where you are. Why you’re in a cold lab, why you’re in it’s deepest shadows, why your legs are heavy steel. It all comes back: Gamzee kissing you in the pile, Aradia dying again, Vriska throwing you off the ledge, Terezi breaking your fall.

 

Terezi, armed with a death wish, going to meet her maker. Or maybe it’s Vriska with the death wish. You don’t even know what “going to meet your maker” means, you think you read it in a book once.

 

They’ve probably already fought by now. You don’t want to think about who killed who. 

 

You have no idea what time it is. Usually that’s a point of relief, but given the looming threat of an unbeatable dog boss sniffing out your current location, you should try to get some sense of how many hours it’s been now. How long have you been alone? Wow, that’s a loaded question. Searching through your modus, your arms shaking, you realize that you don’t have your husktop or your palmhusk in here. The chests were fun in theory, but already you’re starting to forget where you stored your important stuff. This is why you should carry no less than five computers on you at all times, like a sensible person.

 

You slowly experiment with standing up again. You're not in as much pain as you were when you fell, but you're stiff and aching. Still, you can’t just stay down here forever. For one thing, you'll starve, because you only have enough food rations in your sylladex for a couple days. You don't even have a day. For all you know, there could only be one hour until the moment.

 

Before you continue down the hall Terezi left through, you close your eyes and commune with Rufio. He's back again, telling you to _be strong, dude!,_ to take reality by the horns and ride. You dropped your best lance up there before, and the Fiduspear is somewhere in a chest, but you do have your old Jousting Lance. You have to go up there and make sure whoever's left is okay. For Aradia's sake, for Gamzee's, for Kanaya's, for Terezi's. You take a deep breath, equip, and start to ascend.

 

You walk through dizzying hallway after hallway, carefully climbing stairs, observing clusters of your friends' discarded belongings. It’s so quiet as you go, it’s chilling. Eventually, you recognize the staircase that leads to the transportalizer to the main computer room. When you enter, it takes all your will to stomach what you see: Feferi’s giant blood splatter on the horn pile, Kanaya's blood heaved in a trail to the next transportalizer, Sollux's blood splattered on a wall.

 

 _You can fuckin' do this,_ Rufio says. You teleport onto the first level of the meteor's roof, where you find what has to be  _all_ of Eridan's blood and a mess of his insides, mixed with swirls of Kanaya. You don't know how your legs are still moving forward. Finally, you reach the upper level of the roof and come upon Vriska’s crumpled body: stabbed in the back, face down, her wings wilted in pools of cerulean. You don't know how you're doing this.

 

Then you see them: Karkat, _Kanaya,_ Sollux, and Terezi, most effective weapons drawn, facing Gamzee in a circle. Facing  _Gamzee_ in a circle. He's the target.

 

Your love looks ravaged. Three deep lacerations across his face, his paint dreadfully smeared, holding two clubs in one hand and a colorful hammer in the other, his shirt soaked in his own blood. 

 

 _Make a decision_. You decide that no one here would take you seriously enough to fight you directly or listen to your pleas to stop. Except for maybe one person.

 

Gamzee notices you there right away. His eyes flick over to you. They blaze orange. 

 

“Tavros. This has nothing to motherfucking do with you. Get the fuck away from what all I’m about to do.”

 

This isn't him.

 

“No.”

 

You are both terrified and bulldozing forward.

 

“What the motherfuck did you just say?”

 

Okay, leaning towards terrified.

 

“I said the word, which means I won’t be doing what you just said.”

 

Judging from what you saw in your battle against the King, there has always been a source of fire in Gamzee That was just the first you'd ever witnessed it, his sudden attack that exploded the monster's head clean off and lasted all of ten seconds. He was back to sweet and soft just afterwards, no trace of the surge anywhere in sight, so you repressed the memory faster than you have any other. Seriously, you thought you'd dreamed it. All of you did, especially you. But this?

  

He flashsteps some of the distance between you. He then walks slowly towards you, tossing the hammer carelessly behind him; it lands with a buoyant  _honk._ The closer he gets - so close you can smell him, that distinctive scent that's _essentially him_ \- the hotter you feel.

 

Your robolegs are really shaking. That must be the slightly magnetic pelvis Equius installed, literally dragging you closer to the heavy clubs Gamzee holds at his side.

 

“I warned you, bro.” Gamzee touches your face with his spare, bloodied hand. Delicate, soft. “I warned you on what fucking blasphemes got slandered on our messiahs. Didn’t you know, baby love? They were always both me.”

 

He showed you that video, which he’s referring to now. It was the last time you would see him before his great undoing, three hours before the critical moment; you were lying in the pile room with him in the dark, blue computer light glowing at your backs, the puppet he calls Lil Cal face down on the floor nearby. You weren’t sure who the Insane Clown Posse in this YouTube were, but you were also sure that the Dave human was probably just trying to “troll” him. You thought you’d convinced your other half that it was just a lame prank. But it’d been a while since he’d had any slime, when you told him.

 

Something was different, even after just two hours of his relapse, you could tell that. He was lethargic, gloomy, and for several moments, sad and confused. From both Dave’s messages and the loss of his sopor comfort, combining in a near complete loss of faith. He was hurt to find out, with this supposed solid proof, that all the religious beliefs he’d ever held close to his heart were utter heresies. When you left him to commune with Bec – you didn’t _want_ to leave him, in fact you wanted to tell him you pitied him, though you weren't sure you understood what that meant, but he asked if he could think about it alone – you were concerned. You promised yourself you'd find him later.

 

But you didn’t know it would turn into all this. 

 

“I think, maybe,” you say, as his wet fingers still caress your face, and god, you are shaking, “you are taking, what was probably a joke from the Dave human, too seriously right now.”

 

His eyes flare.

 

“ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKING DOUBTING WHO I WAS HATCHED TO BE? Not you, Tavros. You know what I was motherfucking called to be a part of. You know the dark carnival CAN'T MOTHERFUCKING START until I get my wicked arrival on that paradise. You told me you believed that I was real, was that fake, sweetest love?" His voice breaks, and so does your heart. The color shifts in his eyes, from orange to gold. "I _need you._ I can't motherfucking handle on that being fake."

 

Now you place your hand on his face; he leans gently into your touch, and the last great barrel of Rufio's power flows out of you:

 

“On the contrary. What I meant to say, was that we know better, than to let people tell us our faith isn’t real. We both get told that what we’re all about is nothing, but we believe in it regardless. Me and you. So, fuck Dave's jokes, and the pony he rode in on, and fuck the haters.”

 

You poke him in the chest, gentle but firm, above his bloodpusher, and he lets you.

 

“You know – in here – what is real.”

 

Just when you think he’s going to kiss you, he releases his hold on your face. Falls into a loopy, one-armed embrace with you, and your anxiety floods out of your system. You pat him on the back, shushing him quietly.

 

Everyone else is looking at you like they have no idea what language you just spoke to each other in. Though, you can't help but notice, they look relieved.

 

Somehow, you're the hero. It's you.

 

“Well, that was an unbelievably touching pairing I should’ve seen coming in retrospect!” Karkat’s speaking the way he does just before he passes out, quick and bated, and now you really notice everyone else; Kanaya is _glowing,_ and Sollux is blind. “Oh, hey, someone get Nepeta – Nepeta, are you seeing you this shit? Could you possibly have drawn such a sappy goddamn miracle on the shipping chart you scrabbled in the blood of innocent musclebeasts? Oh, wait, Nepeta can’t hear me, because somewhere deep in the lab that I insisted you sociopaths stay the fuck out of, her _head_ is bashed in.”

 

He's staring at the clubs at both of your sides. They are indeed splattered with Nepeta’s blood, even tufts of her hair, the dust of her skull bone.

 

You stiffen, trying to quell your nausea.  _This isn't him._  Gamzee is limp on your shoulder.

 

“’m sorry, Tav,” he says in your ear, rough and faint.

 

Terezi would discourage you from rulings innocent before proven guilty. But you made a decision.

 

You have no idea how he got himself here.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Oh Lord, oh Lord, what do I do?   
I’ve fallen for someone who’s nothing like you   
He’s raised on the edge of the devil’s backbone  
I just wanna take him home

 

 

 

Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you have just shoosh papped your closest friend down from his murderous rage. It's been said that the successful shoosh pap is the cornerstone canonization of moirallegiance. You have never known for certain what defines red or pale, but given the way he holds you in this moment, given how you've kept each other grounded, and given that he's been subtly proposing romance to you since you met, you imagine that Gamzee is your moirail now. Maybe he always was.

 

The surviving number of you are standing on the meteor roof, a strange green star burning out in the distance. You and Gamzee stand far enough off to the side that you can hear the others talk, but you can have some privacy, just in case. Lil Cal is draped around the shoulder of Gamzee's that isn't folded over you, and he's quiet; simply cradling you, his body indicative of exhaustion. He's long put his clubs away, but the evidence that something happened to him is still present - the three lashes on his face are deep, his shirt is torn and still damp, and for the first time, you can feel his chucklevoodoos tickling the edges your mind. Just the edges, faint swells of ebbing woe and anxiety, that make you both afraid for the future and afraid to let him go.

 

As a psychic troll yourself, you'd heard something of the highbloods' telepathic abilities. Mostly theories and stories Aradia told you, but the one highblood you knew seemed to have no inclination. Your head was always free and clear around him before.

 

Something terrifying in him is awake. Part of you needs to pretend it can't be real, and part of you still wants to understand it.

 

Nobody has stopped to explain to you how the fight you interrupted between the five of them started; Terezi and Sollux said, you overheard, that Equius is also dead, which brings the total tally to five, but you don't know which bodies were killed by Vriska, by Gamzee somehow, or someone else. Except Nepeta.  _Maybe it was in self-defense,_ you tell yourself, because the alternative is too damning to behold. But what could possibly trigger Nepeta to attack him? What domino effect caused all of your friends, even Gamzee and Karkat, to distrust and turn on each other, push everyone to their breaking point?

 

Kanaya keeps watching you out of the corner of her eye.

 

Sollux propels your meteor towards the green star with his psionics, his body tearing itself apart from the force. It takes everything in you not to hurl at the sound of his screams weaved into the howl of wind. You hold onto Gamzee's body, hiding your face in his chest, his arms forming a barrier around you as the rock hurtles forward. 

 

When the meteor stops its drift before the furling sphere of gas, you find Rose, Dave, _Sollux,_ and Aradia hovering over your heads. Your heart is relieved to see Aradia god tier and animate, cloaked in red, dazzling wings beating behind her. It also helps that Sollux didn't die, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary lying at your feet.

 

"You see?" Aradia's saying to Sollux, as they touch down from midair, "I told you they would bring your body."

 

"Okay, well I believed you about that," Sollux retorts, "but yeah, I can see it. Shit, can someone get rid of that thing please?"

 

"Aradia," you say, too dumbfounded to say anything more than, "you're alive."

 

 "I am!" She grins, and for a moment, you aren't worried about the future. "And I intend to stay that way."

 

Aradia launches into an excited proposition that your current company throw a corpse party, with Rose and Dave chiming in with exposition about their human funerals; Kanaya and Rose are already near each other, as are Dave and Terezi, as Karkat pokes and prods at alive-Sollux next to Aradia. You and Gamzee linger just off kilter from the circle they've formed, and you watch as the diverse crowd appreciates this first meeting, each in their own way. Rose and Dave look so much like they did in your Trollian viewport, it gives you a weird sense of solace; they're aliens no doubt, pale hair and taupe skin, narrow and soft, but not so much that you're surprised by what you see. You do wonder what Dave's eyes look like, though. Those shades are pretty lame.

 

Dave and Terezi are bantering about death mythos when Karkat, visibly becoming more agitated by the second, lets out a long and thundering expletive. 

 

"Is it going to shit on everybody's great time if I dare to bring up important things now? Is it safe to poke our heads up from this gulch of idiotic banter and see if the coast is clear for adult, businesslike conversation? Yes, humans, so nice to meet you, and it seems you're god tier now? Neat, yada yada, what the fuck ever. Just one question. We followed that green beacon of what I thought was the aftermath of a successful blow up the sun mission, and after a breakneck warp speed journey in which my best fucking friend psyched me into thinking he died _yet a-fucking-gain,_ what do I find here? It seems we have also chanced upon none other than the green fucking sun itself, which unless my raw ganderbulbs are still a little griefbleary, strikes me as still being rather _un-fucking-blown up._ So what am I missing here?"

 

Dave snorts. "Dude chill out, we just got hornswoggled is all."

 

"Oh!" Karkat clasps his hands together with a loud crack. "Case closed, let's start pitching dead pals into the swirling inferno, my curiosity was totally fucking sated just then!"

 

"The sun will never be destroyed, Karkat," Aradia says. "I'm sorry, but you were misinformed!"

 

"Great, more breathtaking reassurance. Everything will be fine, we were just hornswoggled and misinformed. Wasn't the whole point of taking out the sun to neutralize Jack?"

 

"It shouldn't be a problem," Rose says.

 

"No? Then what's the plan now?"

 

"It's simple." Rose smiles. "We regroup, and then defeat him in person."

 

As Karkat launches into another rant, and Rose extrapolates, you feel yourself becoming more and more frustrated and confused with understanding the topics at hand. Something about a suicide mission to detonate a sun? What sun? A tumor? A scratch? Apparently while you slept through the end of Sgurb, including the countdown's final hours, important changes were happening. It seems you missed all of it. 

 

"I have, uh, maybe a stupid question," you venture. "What's the green sun?"

 

Absolutely everyone turns to look at you, and Terezi facepalms.

 

"Holy shit," Dave says.

 

"Really, Tavros?" Terezi says.

 

"I have a question," Karkat says. "How the fuck are you not dead? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we don't have yet another leaking corpse to throw off the edge of this rock into oblivion, but - you know what? I'm not even surprised. You slept more than a nursing hive senior wallowing in his last days, missed even a basic understanding of the constructs at play, contributed nothing to our efforts to survive besides rapping with everyone's favorite murderclown, and stumbled metal ass backwards into not getting the drop while the rest of us were fighting for our lives. In other words, what else is new?"

 

“Oh yeah, I remember you," Dave says. "You’re the stupid troll, the one who had the worst rap battle in paradox space with himself and kept talking about my dick.”

 

You feel a jolt at that, the kickstart to your graceless contest against Dave. You may ask stupid questions, but you aren't stupid.

 

“Hey, I’m not stupid, and that’s not, uh, what I was - ”

 

Gamzee makes that funny  _honk_ noise at your side.

 

"Shoosh," he whispers in your ear, "it's like you said. Fuck that motherfucker and his motherfucking pony. And Karkat don't mean harm."

 

"So who's the leader now?" Karkat's back to addressing everyone else. "Aradia, is it you? Or is it Rose 'I have an idea, let's take the invincible demon head on' Lalonde? I need to know in whose direction I should behave as the most useless subordinate possible. Quick, someone boss me around, I'm fucking incompetent and raring to go."

 

Sufficiently embarrassed by your outburst, you lower your gaze to the ground as the rest of the team converses on. Unfortunately the ground nearest you is still covered in Sollux's corpse. You shudder as your stomach lurches, turning your face into Gamzee's shoulder. Gamzee rubs his knuckles in soothing circles against your back.

 

"Don't worry," he says so only you can hear. "I'll get rid of that fucking noise so you don't all have to look."

 

You crane up to see his face. "Where will you put it?”

 

Gamzee runs a hand through your hair. “To motherfucking rest."

 

You watch as Gamzee stoops at Sollux's feet and starts dragging him from the rest of the group. You're still the only one watching him as he stops at Vriska's body, hoisting her over his shoulder and traveling on with both of them. By the time he's disappeared through the transportalizer, you're amazed that no one's noticed the long gold trail he left in his wake. Everyone's still fervently debating your party's next moves.

 

"Do we really have to leave so soon?" Kanaya's saying to Rose.

 

"It's soon or never," Rose declares. "Even if the route were accessible right now, it would still be wise to wait. There's correspondence from John yet to arrive. After that, we have to wait for one final guest to appear. Then we ride like the solar wind. The race will be afoot."

 

"Another visitor?" Kanaya says. "Who?"

 

"Fuck!"

 

Karkat's exclamation coincides with his eyes following Sollux's blood path, which everyone then surmises.

 

"Sollux, where the fuck is your body?"

 

"Hell if I know."

 

"Vriska's gone too!" Karkat says. "Did anyone see what happened?"

 

Kanaya looks directly at you.

 

"Gamzee's missing," she announces.

 

Karkat looks to you in alarm. "You had to have seen him do it, he was just fucking standing right there next to you, why didn't you say something?"

 

"Oh, I'm sorry," you say, "I thought, the point had been expressly made, that I shouldn't say anything, since I do nothing to contribute."

 

Karkat just stares. Dave's laugh takes you aback.

 

"Someone get Karkat aloe vera and a compress for his ticket to the burn ward."

 

"You know what? Fuck it," Karkat cedes. "Who cares if he wants to do some absurd religious ritual with the bodies? He can have them, send their spirits off to shangri-fucking-la and back, as long as it keeps him out of trouble."

 

"At least someone's doing your corpse party," Sollux says to Aradia.

 

After the brief interruption that is John's projectile message in a bucket - after a second crackling portal drops a small Mayoral carapace, bleeding red, onto the platform - Rose and Aradia explain the details of how you'll get to the new session. Traveling near the speed of light through The Furthest Ring, it's going to take three human years, which sounds like a really long time to you. In approximate Alternian terms, Aradia clarifies, you'll be on the meteor for a sweep and a half. At the exact moment time and space avows, she and Sollux will give you the push you need to embark.

 

Aradia and Sollux float together near the edge of the roof, waiting for Rose to give the signal. You approach them, and Aradia regards you with a warm smile.

 

"Are you sure," you say to her, "you don't want to come?"

 

"I almost wish I could!" Aradia descends to you. "But the ghosts out in the Ring need a guide, and I've been told by death itself that I make an excellent host." She takes your hands in hers. "I've really missed you, Tavros."

 

"I miss you too."

 

"Don't take what they said about you to heart. It says something that you're standing here. It wasn't an accident or a fluke! Everything that led up to this moment was what you should've done. I'm excited for all the important things you'll do. I'll come visit you in your dreams as often as I can."

 

Aradia takes off, flying high above; she and Sollux lift their glowing hands, and the meteor races. You watch her until she disappears.

 

 

 

 ♉

 

 

 

It doesn't sit well with you that this dark, monochrome labyrinth is going to be your home for more than a sweep. When everyone descends from the roof that night, it becomes apparent that this was never a fitting place for twelve trolls to dwell - no windows, no natural moonlight, no fresh air - granted, you were all afflicted by extenuating circumstances when you were trapped here the first time. Now, there's nothing to do but leisure in limbo. But just the environment itself is gloomy enough to make even the most stable troll go stir crazy, and none of you are very stable trolls. You've only spent twelve hours here so far. Here's to hoping the rest are nothing like the insanity.

 

Rose, Kanaya, Dave, and Terezi clean up the bloodshed and discarded items in the main computer lab, rearranging odd furniture they've kept in their modii, deploying long unused alchemiters, and trying to make the space look livable and comforting; there are arguments aplenty about what that looks like. Meanwhile, Karkat is watching over the little red blooded Mayor, who a ghost will apparently be able to heal once your meteor passes through its first dream bubble. You aren't sure what a dream bubble is, but you make a note to ask Rose what she meant later.

 

Not sure where else you should go, and not wanting to chance upon undiscovered gore, you find yourself wandering back to the horn pile room where Gamzee first kissed you, the only place with familiarity here. Gamzee's already there, as if waiting for you, though he's sitting on the floor instead of the horns.

 

Grateful are you to see he's changed his tattered shirt; he has a chipped, ornate mirror perched in front of his crossed legs, and he's reapplying his paint. It makes your bloodpusher stir, watching his lidded eyes focus on his face, the fluid way his hands move. It makes you want to kiss every place his fingers touch.

 

At least, until you remember.

 

At that thought, he turns to look at you where you stand near the doorway.

 

"Hi," you say first.

 

"Hey."

 

You walk towards him and sit on the floor across from him, watching as he caps his makeup back, folds the mirror. The pattern he created looks different than it usually does, you realize now; sharper, more contrast, almost more angry. He's trying not to look at you, you realize, and that makes you sad. Though he's made an effort to conceal them, the trifecta of scars ripped across the bridge of his nose are ever apparent.  

 

"So, I don't know if you've heard," you say, "I guess not, because you left, when Rose said. It's going to take us, three human years to get to the new session. That's uh, about a sweep and a half, in our time."

 

Gamzee clicks his tongue, sighs soft. "Guess that's as up and good as it could be. 's gonna feel longer for me, though."

 

You wish you could stop seeing the moment in your head; looking down at his clubs, seeing her olive blood and feeling sick. If you could, you would never understand why he did it, you would forget and cover yourself in the past. But if you're going to live, with him on this meteor, if you're going to weather the decision you made, you have to understand.

 

Your voice wavers, and tears prick your eyes.

 

"Why did you kill Nepeta?"

 

Gamzee holds off for a moment, staring at your legs. Then he looks torn, as he explains.

 

"The motherfucking short of it is that I couldn't see. The motherfucking long of it is that I know for a _fact_ that my religion is real. And _w_ _as_ real. I think it hit me heavy fuckin' heavy that everything we used to have is dead. No more beautiful ocean, no more sitting with beautiful you in the sand. No more sacred services that I all up and wanted to take you to someday, in the miracle of those breath thieving cathedrals built most high. I'm the last of every thing and every one I ever believed. They ain't even born yet, my destiny messiahs, my gods, and at the same time, I already did what I needed to do. And now I have to motherfucking do it for eternity. And when I realized on that, and Lil Cal told me that it's all on  _me,_  and I realized that everyone is seeing that like a joke - even heads like her that don't say it to my face, but I _know_ , but it  _hurts -_ I just got filled with all this motherfucking. _R_ _age._ It ain't no excuse, I ain't asking you to forgive, but it's a reason. You ever been - "

 

He's finally staring into your eyes, and something about whatever terror is awake pulls you in deep. You're drowning in his dark, and you want to.

 

"You ever been so angry it makes you hot?"

 

Heat rushes your face, as if in response. You know what he means, to an extent, because you’d felt such a flare about Vriska.

 

Not nearly as severe. Still.

 

"Yes, actually. I have. Not, uh - when I left you alone, after the YouTube thing, I tried to kill Vriska."

 

Gamzee nods, bites his lip. "Yeah, I know on that, Tavros."

 

This comes as a surprise to you. No one but Terezi knew, you thought. "You do?"

 

"Doc Scratch - Mr. Vanilla Milkshake up and told me you were gonna risk your life on her. We got to talking more, once my pan was split. And he wouldn't motherfucking tell me whether you live or die. I looked for you, I looked for her. But he told me there was nothing I could do."

 

"It was very close," you say to him, "I think. I was kind of being an idiot, or no, I was definitely, being a fucking idiot. I couldn't kill her, and I can't kill anyone, but...Aradia said, when I saw her tonight, that everything I did, was what I should've done. Even, I guess, if it was stupid. For whatever reason, that had to happen, like it did."

 

Gamzee reaches for your hands, and that telltale warmth fills your entire body at his touch.

 

"But I," you go on, "I don't understand, why this had to happen to you. What one thing, I could've done differently, if I had stayed with you, if I had kept you safe - "

 

Gamzee shushes you, shaking his head, squeezing your hands.

 

"Nah. _Nah._ Don't put none of the blame for what a fucking mess I am on your head, you understand? I didn't get my knowing on that this is who I'd be, and that's on _me._ Another reason why I had that - think I up and went into shock, not having slime. I didn't get my knowing on that it would break me if I stopped." His voice falters. "If I had motherfucking known that - if I had motherfucking known that when it stopped, I'd be so fucking blind that I couldn't even see that I was treacherous to  _you,_  my saving grace- I would've never put a _drip_ of that motherfucking poison in my box. I was a stupid fucking kid. Shit, I'm still a stupid fucking kid. I can't go back and not make myself a fucking fiend. Not even if I take my ass back there traveling through time all like Aradia. Because it's already fucking _happened,_  me and you, in  _this_ time, and I still fucking believe that every time's connected. And you'll always remember me, and I'll always remember you."

 

You hold his hands tighter, fire alight.

 

"But I can't be having you motherfucking harmed. Not me, not by this. You were better off before I started taking you down, I'm danger, baby, you should run."

 

"Just say," you're nearly begging, "I need to hear you say, that you won't do it again."

 

Gamzee swallows. "What if I can't say that?"

 

You cradle his face, obsessive, reverent. "Just lie. Please, for me, just lie to me, lie to me, please - "

 

You kiss him, breathless and rash.

 

"Tav - "

 

You shift yourself into his lap and grind down, kiss him harder, clumsily work his soft mouth apart, and his chucklevoodoos flood the edges of your mind again. You are shivering, clinging to him like if you let go you will die, and he lets you, handling you in kind.

 

Your kisses slow, back to gentle and mild, and you feel his chucklevoodoos recede. You push him slightly so he's lying on his back, and collapse along his side. You hold him for a while, listening to him catch his breath. 

 

"Tav."

 

You look up at him.

 

"It's not just Nepeta I killed. I put the drop on Equius too."

 

You're crying, then, realizing how gone they are. How much you're going to miss Nepeta's frenzy, Equius's intensity.

 

When suddenly, it occurs to you. The scars on his face are from her claws.

 

"I can't motherfucking lie to you. All I can say is that I'll try, try not to let this curse what I got saddled with black me out again. I'll try, much I can. Anything for you."

 

He wipes your tear streams with his thumb, and you realize how exhausted he looks.

 

"You should get some rest," you say to him.

 

Gamzee lets his head tilt back onto the floor.

 

"Yeah. I could probably motherfucking use it."

 

You lie there with him, one of his arms still loosely curled around you, letting every moment that passes stir you further awake. His chucklevoodos' reel on your thinkpan, even if they're gone now, make you feel wired over your thoughts. The grief runs a hard course; you grieve both for his victims and for who he was yesterday, before this affliction. Though this isn't how you would've wanted it to unfold, and though you fear that what he went through tonight isn't vanquished, there's a deeper understanding of each other, a sobering connection between you now. What he said about him always remembering you lingers. He's alive, and so are you, and you're going to make the most of the time you have.

 

Once he's long asleep, snoring gently, you leave him and wander back into the computer lab. Kanaya is the only one here now, glowing bright, standing before an alchemiter and producing a number of tapestries and rugs. You shuffle beside her and admire her work.

 

"Those are really nice," you say to her.

 

"Thanks."

 

"Do you want any help?"

 

"Sure. I don't know where I'm going to put them yet so you can help me figure that out."

 

Kanaya glances at you, looks away, and then looks back, a double take. 

 

"You have some of his paint on your face."

 

You wipe a hand over your cheek and yes, she's right; white spots cover your fingers.

 

"Oh," you laugh nervously, "yeah, I... uh..."

 

Kanaya returns her attention to the alchemiter.

 

"Whatever it is you're doing with him, just be careful," she says, and then with ruthless calm: "If he kills you, all bets are off and I will saw him in two."

 

You nod, gruesome but well meaning message received. But it makes you recognize fully that your friends are not as okay with him as you are. Not anymore. Can you blame them? That will be another hitch to face.

 

"Okay."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Year One and a half. Tavros meets Rufioh and a doomed version of himself who went God Tier, as Tavros and Gamzee fall deeper still.


End file.
